The After Gate
by CrazyFaerieSoul
Summary: "We had a strange brand of friendship after that." He's angry. He's had his childhood stolen from him. She's crazy. She doesn't know the first thing about caring for someone. They've been raised to kill, perhaps each other. But together they're peace. They just didn't realize it until they were in the middle of the worst circumstances possible...
1. Chapter 1

**The After Gate**

A/N: Hi :) I wrote this because I'm fascinated with Clato and I think Cato and Clove deserve to have their story told. Details are gonna be taken from both the book and the movie, hopefully it won't be confusing. Bottom line, this story was written as I wanted, so bear with me... I hope I let no one down and I hope I did Clove and Cato justice. Read...

Part 1

" _From the treaty of the treason: In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and a female between the ages of twelve and eighteen at a public "Reaping." These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol. And then transferred to a public arena where they will Fight to the Death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games."_

Cato POV

The first thing I noticed about Clove was not her petite build, not her big brown eyes, the nutmeg freckles sprinkling her nose, her pointed chin, the peachy glow of her cheeks. Not even the nimble grace with which she made every move, the self-same fluency that enabled her to drive a blade into the heart of a dummy standing forty feet away or fight off digital opponents in a blur of flying knives.

Nope. It was the shield. The hard, impenetrable shield that made it impossible to see anything but brutality and ruthlessness in her face, her gaze. My first impression of Clove was that here was a girl who had nothing to lose.

She was twelve. I was thirteen. We should have been innocent, happy children playing innocent, happy games. But happiness and innocence had never really been a part of my life. Or hers, obviously.

She was a rich man's daughter. I was a rich man's son. Our families had two important things in common: they were both powerful in our district and they both valued the Capitol's recognition over anything else. Add this to our attitude issues and we were prime tribute candidates, and I guess the authority knew it. They took advantage of her uncaring coldness, using it, as they used everything, for their end. They jumped eagerly on my angry rebel spirit for the same exact reason. We were foreordained.

Eventually, being the experts they are, they honed the defiant little brown haired girl's nimble body to throw lethal blades with fatal precision. She was swift, sharp, alert to near paranoia. They had made her like that because that was how they wanted her.

As for me, I became their pitbull-slash-racehorse. I was trained relentlessly so that my strength was equally relentless. They drove me to perform incredible amounts of gymnastics while I was timed, until speed was my other main tool. I was drilled until my first instinct, first reaction in any situation was self-preservation. Immediate, levelheaded self-preservation. Sometimes I sucked at the levelheaded part...

We were raised to kill.

We knew without being told we would volunteer in the Games one day. It was for the common good. That was what they told us, and when were they ever wrong?

Clove POV

For years now, life held one goal for me, one purpose. Win the Games. Win and be an honor to my district. Then, finally, I would be loved. The uncaring populace would care. I would be important, I would be accepted for the first time. And for the first time, I would have made a difference.

As of now I was a tool. My district's tool. I did what they told me, learned what they taught me, not because I was meek but because I was desperate. The only hope of a future lay in winning, and I must chase that hope. I had nothing else to live for.

Then Cato happened. When I met him he was already popular; at thirteen he was already fatally gorgeous and girls stared after him, followed him, giggling and starry-eyed.

They had reason, I guessed. He was quite stunning. His blonde hair alone was enough to weaken any normal girl's knees, tousled sexily and so tempting to touch. And then you add the chiseled cheekbones and alert sky-blue eyes and you've got a ladykiller on your hands. But what I always secretly thought to be the direct shot to the heart was his mouth, always quirking in sarcasm or firm in concentration or hardened in anger.

Yeah, he was a masterpiece, particularly as the years went by and he matured. But I was untouched by his charm; I refused to be touched. I had no desire to be one of the airheaded lovestruck idiots that hung in in awe near his elbow. Such weakness was just that- weakness, and I never participated in weakness. It cost to be weak and I had no luck to spare.

We saw plenty of each other, both being specifically trained in District Two's Training Center to be tributes someday. Soon. Others were in training here too, but everyone was aware that the year Cato turned sixteen it would be he and I. Between our talents and our families, we were the chosen ones.

He teased me. Always cheerfully, always with his trademark sarcasm. I think he found me rather interesting, as the only girl immune to his manly appeal.

"Clove," he said once, "how is it that you spend all your days training in this building and yet manage to have freckles on your nose? One can only imagine the disaster of leaving you in full sun for even one entire afternoon." He smirked sweetly. He was the only guy I knew who could smirk sweetly.

I sent a knife spinning into a dummy's chest before replying. It added effect. "Cato, how is it that your hair is always blonde on top and dark at the roots? You are in here as much as I am. Could it be you bleach, perhaps twice a month, even?"

"Hm," he remarked and quite suddenly he stepped close and spun me around, holding firmly onto my hip and wrist. The wrist attached to the hand that held my next knife, of course. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I glared fiercely, wiggling my other arm where it was pinned between us. "Let me go or I'll stab you in the ear." I nearly did, too, but he was very swift, very adept, and he countered every move of mine with a better one of his. I hissed at him.

He snickered at me, holding me neatly with my back to his chest. Then he spun me around so I faced him. "You won't be hard to take down," he remarked. "Such a pity."

We had a strange brand of friendship after that.

R&R and I'll kiss you. (Hypothetically only, no worries.)


	2. Part 2

The After Gate

A/N: quickie note, forgot the disclaimer last time! So without further ado...

Disclaimer: They ain't mine. They ain't yours. They all belong to Suzy C.

Part 2

Cato POV

This was the year. Clove and I would volunteer for the games when they came around. We knew it, our trainers knew it, the other kids in training knew it. We came from two very influential families; our destinies had been cut out for us neatly, from the beginning.

Today I stood in the practice station, twirling a spear and watching my co-tribute-to-be march in. She always entered the same way, sturdily and decisively, pointed chin up. Her face would set with fierce passion and determination as she fired her lethal knives like frisbees, smoothly, artfully.

I'd watched her go at it more than once, grudgingly in awe. She was devilishly good- for a girl of course. I would always be better. But she still stood out, because of her strangely sullen drive for accuracy and precision. District Two thought her rather deranged; it pleased them- it escalated the threat she already presented. Were I a less deadly person myself, I wouldn't stand a chance against her.

Clove began picking knives from their racks and flipping them into her practice vest. She looked over at me and smiled. Her smiles were rare, always taking me by surprise.

"It's my birthday," she stated.

Wow, personal info. Even more rare. "I can see that new gray hair from here," I told her, and dashed my spear into the chest of a dummy standing near her, twenty feet from me.

She responded with a flying blade that whistled between my legs and lodged itself in another dummy behind me.

"If you had aimed over my shoulder you could have hit a vital part at least," I snorted.

She raised her brows the tiniest smidgeon.

"The head," I clarified unnecessarily. She wasn't stupid; I was sarcastic.

I had been sarcastic a long time. It was how I survived my anger, my life. The anger had started a long time ago- by this time it was the most familiar of my emotions.

One of her blades plunged into the latter dummy's head, nearly stirring my hair as it passed. She must be having a good day, giving me grief instead of working.

"How old." It was a question but I made it a comment.

She plucked a handful of mini knives from the rack and fired them in rapid succession into another dummy's chest. Then she clasped her hands and looked at me. The handles of the knives protruded from said dummy's said chest, in a formation. A number one and a number five.

Fifteen.

I was used to her weirdness. I liked it.

"They're coming for us," she commented, as if our futures didn't hang in the balance, as if neither of us would ever have to consider taking the other's life. We had always treated it that way.

"Yup," was all I said. She walked a little further away, began practicing in earnest. My eyes followed her.

And I gripped my tools to begin full-fledged dummy decapitation.

Clove POV

They had come. Cato and I sat in a Capitol train, racing away from Two. The Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games were about to dawn.

Cato was across from me, silent as stone, and as still, as the scenery flashed by. This was out of character- I would have expected him to fidget at the very least. I watched him; he didn't move except for a blink every so often. His gaze was fixed on his hands, clasped between his knees, and he was leaning forward a bit.

"Cato," I said finally. He looked up as if from another time, far away. I had meant to ask if he was scared but what came out of my mouth, quite of its own accord, was, "Are you hungry?"

He smirked in a puzzled way, making me feel belittled. "What, are you?"

I wasn't. I felt weirdish, like there was just a lump where my stomach should be. But I wanted to distract him. So I said, "Go with me to the dining car."

"Think you'll lose your way?" he inquired, oozing condescension from his lips. But he looked cheerful again.

For my mission I was meek, this once. "I haven't been there yet."

Cato stood and grabbed my elbow, towing me along to the sliding door. "You forget, neither have I."

"Find it," I told him.

"For you?" He feigned amazement.

"You suck up to girls all the time. Show me some of that," I told him, cold, challenging.

"I do not suck up to them. They suck up to me," he grumped.

I quirked a brow.

"Fine." He glared without malice and held the sliding door open with a flourish. "After you, sweetheart."

When I stepped through, he followed. Then his firm arms slipped around me; he scooped me up and carried me all the way to the dining car with no problem at all.

Cato POV

She asked- demanded- "Is that supposed to work? Like, you expect to win some girl's heart by literally sweeping her off her feet!"

I grinned and arrogantly told her that in all other cases save this one, the girl's heart was already won. The sweeping-off-the-feet gesture was just a little extra that made any given girl worship me forever.

Except her of course. She made certain to remind me of that.

I could have told her the truth, that I wasn't even a ladies' man, I didn't have time for pests in skirts. But if she wanted to think I was attracting girls like bees to honey... why spoil the illusion?

There was plenty of food in the dining car. Far more than we and our mentor could eat, certainly. Clove and I were used to some manner of extravaganza, but this- this was out of this world. Heaps upon heaps of fragrant edibles.

I swung the aforementioned girl to the floor. "Well, happy now?" I inquired. "I found all the yummy stuff for you, literally brought your lazy ass to it. Dig in already." I examined a plate of what appeared to be miniature chicken legs in sauce. It smelled unappetizing.

Clove hadn't answered. She stood, arms crossed, and peered around the room- it was sizable- and scrunched her eyebrows up a little. There was no reason for it that I could see, but she looked chilled and annoyed.

Oh please. She'd made me drag her here and wasn't even gonna eat? I snorted and headed for a luscious armchair. No point in standing in wait. Who knew what the crazy child planned on doing. Nap on the doughnuts, most likely.

She walked slowly to a window, watching the forest whisking by on the other side. Finally she spoke.

"I hate them." A flat observation.

"Who?" I asked, bored.

"Everyone." I could see the rage, cold yet smouldering, in her eyes.

"Be my guest."

She didn't answer. Maybe she hadn't heard my unencouraging comment. Normally I would have ignored her right back, but this was Clove: the-girl-who-never-talked, particularly-never-about-feelings. So I had to know.

"Why?" I queried, at that same instant spotting a dark glass bottle behind a stack of chocolate tarts. Ha!

"Because," she said coldly, and left the room.

Whatever.

I rummaged till I found a goblet, filled it to the brim with the bottle's rosy contents, and sat back down, settling in. Capitol wine should be awesome.

A/N: R&R for more (hypothetical) kisses. Or Capitol champagne, if you prefer...


	3. Part 3

Disclaimer: I didn't come up with the Hunger Games so they're not mine. We can't all be Suzy...

Part 3

Clove POV

The Capitol is huge. I'd known that, yeah, but I was still unprepared for the sheer immensity, and the superfluous grandeur of it. District Two is no meager community, but this... This place was beyond reason. It literally was.

"This is big," I told Cato, who stood next to me.

He gave me a _look._ "How obvious." As if he hadn't been staring, awed, himself. I was indignant.

I frowned and narrowed my eyes but he appeared distracted, same as earlier, and rather angry besides. His face was stormy, set.

As we got closer to our drop-off point, we were surrounded by eager crowds, thronging, pressing, all reaching, craning to see us. We, the Game pieces. What a pity it couldn't be night. I wasn't stupid enough to think the Capitol wouldn't light up like an oversize ballroom at the faintest sign of twilight. But I still would have felt safer if it wasn't broad daylight.

Anyway, all those bloodthirsty, painted puppets could see us, were watching us with critical eyes despite their excitement, so I smiled and waved. Smiling felt rather unusual, because for me, it was. All of which was beside the point, obviously. If I wanted any odds in my favor at all... I had to make the people who helped control the odds like me. Quite simple reasoning. Even though my instinct was to run from the window and hide until Cato came to drag me out so he didn't miss his chance to spear me in the arena.

Cato apparently was aware of of this too. Not the running, hiding, and dragging part. The being nice part. He was still beside me, flashing his ladykiller grin and giving those Capitol bastards thumbs-ups. As usual everybody loved him. The whole assembly appeared to be roaring and waving at him.

I wouldn't be outdone so I blew kisses and smiled sweetly.

We were thronged as we made our way to our quarters, special rooms in a special building- The Training Center, it was called- for the tributes. Us.

Floor Two of the Residential section of the Center was dedicated entirely to Cato and me. Someone simple-minded had designed this place; each floor level corresponded the tributes occupying it. District One on Level One, District Twelve on Level Twelve, the rest of us in between. Blah blah.

There was no time for us to survey our surroundings (and they were worth checking out, being Capitol-style). Both of us were whisked off to dressing rooms to prepare for the presentation tonight.

The Capitol, true to form, was wasting no time in putting us on display.

Cato POV

I stood fidgeting and shuffling as I waited for Clove to come join me so we could go ride in the stupid parade and get it over with. What was wrong with these people and their lust for a big sparkly show? It was just unnatural. Why not simply dump the lot of us into an arena and let us all kill each other on the first day. Much less suspense and more action- I would prefer that.

As for this disaster outfit that my stylists claimed "perfectly represented our district"... just kill me now. Oh. Right. Bad word choice very. Yeah.

Finally she came reluctantly down the hall towards me, putting an efficient halt to my rambling mind pictures. Which weren't all that pleasant anyway.

She was wearing an exact rendition of my own disturbing get-up; anybody's guess what it should be called, really, but my first impression was that it was some twisted version of a suit of armor with a skirt. (Yes.) All golden. The ridiculous winged helmet appeared too heavy for her head and her small pointed face looked out of place in the midst of all the brassy gold. Especially when she got closer and I could see the freckles on her nose.

Poor kid.

Had I just felt sorry for her? Whatever.

"It takes a weight off my mind to see your current apparel is even less appealing than mine," I greeted her, flashing her a great smile.

She scowled. "If they had let me take my knives in there, this would have had a far different outcome. Trust me."

I did. I trusted that the outcome would have been creepier and much bloodier.

"Come along then," complained our mentor, waving pointed lavender fingernails. "Go, go."

We came along and were deposited on a silly little cart thing hitched to two prancing black horses. I squinted at them. They looked unsafe.

There was no long wait; we were the second ones in the parade. Our cart thing began to move as the horses jerked into action. Clove winced and grabbed my arm.

"Hang on," I told her with another big evil grin.

Her face looked pinched. She was scared. I guessed knifing dummies was more her style than riding around in front of thousands in an unsettlingly small chariot.

"How stupid were those stylists anyway?" I demanded as we walked to our rooms that night after being stared at by the colorful entirety of the Capitol's population. "How stupid is masonry? Really, trying to portray that in an outfit? What's with that? And a goldy suit-of-armor, no less! Anybody with a brain, anybody with a single brain cell, could have known we'd even lose out against the coal miners, who are from Twelve, no less! I don't know why nobody came up with the flame thing before, seriously. And seriously, a suit of armor!" I knocked my chest in exasperation.

"You're ranting," Clove told me.

"So?" I was outraged. Twelve, _twelve,_ had no right to make such a good showing at the opening parade. The crowd had nearly died of sheer adrenaline when those two came sailing down the runway, flames billowing behind them as if they were demons straight of of Hades. Little devils, how fitting. They'd knocked all of us in the dust. This was gonna be very hard to top. It was all those doddering stylists' faults. And I really didn't appreciate people staring at me in a costume.

Okay, maybe that was the main issue. Okay, _who_ cared!

" _So,"_ I snapped when she remained silent.

"Girls rant." She was always so flattering.

"Oh, go to hell!" I roared and stomped to my bedroom, rage getting the better of me.

Her voice drifted after me, annoying, persistent. "It's just the truth."

At that point I would have expected to be relieved by the fact that in several days or so, I could kill her legally.

Surprisingly, it didn't help.

Clove POV

Oh the Training Center. It was a joy. Huge, for one thing. My pulse picked up as I saw the armies of dummies lined up along a far wall. This was gonna be fun.

Then my eyes landed on the knife display and the rest of the room just kinda disappeared as I absorbed the rows of gleaming blades, gleaming at me, screaming to be touched, handled, and finally launched. To gleam as they sliced individual trails through the expanse of air.

Gently I drew a couple of the weapons of my choice from the rack, laying them flat in my left palm, weighing and absorbing. Absorbing the cool flat weight of the one thing I felt right with.

Knives.

Adrenaline seethed through me and I lit out for the target area. I poised on my toes, lightly, and relished the feeling of being in control again, the first time since I left Two.

I let the knife fly with a deft twist and watched in satisfaction as it made an arc and ground into my target's heart.

It felt good, doing my thing again.

Half an hour later, still lost in the beauty of deadliness, I was aiming my gazillionth knife- having not even dented the Capitol's eternal supply- when I heard my name.

"Clove, hey."

A/N: I'm still having fun writing about Cato and Clove, I hope you're having fun reading about them! Favorite, follow, review, all the good stuff! See-ya!


	4. Part 4

A/N: Hi, it's me, back with more Clato. Still don't own the Games. Suzy C does. I just own this Clove/Cato backstory, and only the parts of it that can't be found in either the books or the movies. But I love the little I can have. ;)

Without more delay, I present...

 **Part 4**

Clove POV

" _Clove, hey."_

I spun, glowering. Why couldn't I just... stay in my own little awesome world with the knives for company? Really, why? "Cato."

He pulled back a little, apparently picking up on the fact that it might be dangerous for him to disturb my peace when there was a weapon in my hand. No kidding. A very clever observation for that obtuse fellow, I must say.

My eyes caught movement behind him and I realized we weren't alone.

Okay, so we were technically never _alone_ alone in here but that's beside the point.

I narrowed my eyes at the two newcomers. No doubt I appeared rather hostile but when did I ever care how I appeared anyway?

Cato scowled at me and stuck his chin towards the couple; they seemed to be following him for some reason. "District One," he told me.

Ah. District One. They gave us major competition in the yearly games. One's tributes were always sleek, powerful, and dangerous. Also they had this air of glamour about them. Probably a residual trait of being raised in the Luxury District.

The girl stepped up beside Cato- very close beside him. "Glimmer," she said. _(Glimmer? What?_ I thought, and then, _Oh, she's introducing herself.)_ Glimmer, tall and stately, swept a cool appraisal over me with an elegantly ruthless emerald gaze.

She had long golden blonde hair. It didn't endear her to me.

I felt exactly like a mouse. If I looked in a mirror right now, I would no doubt see myself sporting a tail and whiskers.

So I narrowed my eyes once more, gave her a mocking smile, and turned to glance at the guy. He had "swagger" written all over him and his hazel eyes met mine with arrogance, cockiness, and a little condescension. Evil little...

"Marvel here," he announced, looking pleased with himself for no known reason. His face could have been handsome if it weren't for the goofy, stupid grin he sported- constantly, it would seem.

Marvel towered over me just as Glimmer did- and Cato, for that matter. At that instant I felt a teensy bit of gratitude for Cato. Oh, he was condescending, but he was familiar and he wasn't condescending like these two. Glimmer and Marvel gave off an aura that said, "we are elite and no one can ever compare." Particularly Glimmer. The boy- he was a little stupid, from all appearances he'd landed this position with stupid brutality and nothing else. Idiot.

"That's Clove," Cato said belatedly, realizing I wasn't about to make any civil moves. I treated them all to an obviously fake smile. More of a smirk, really.

Cato had something over me besides his muscles. It occurred to me just then. He was hard, mean, but he had people skills. Charm, even chivalry, when necessary. I wasn't too sure I had any of that.

Anyway, we'd be teaming up with these two dreadful humans for the games. Districts One, Two, and Four always did. At least until somebody got impatient and they fought until there was a sole survivor.

Where were the Four dopes anyway? Not that I was in a hurry to meet them. Quite the contrary, when I had just become aware of the sad truth that no matter who we met, my fellow tribute would always be appreciated over me, simply because of his ability to hide his hatred of the general public under that killer smile.

He was going down. They were all going down.

Cato POV

I watched without surprise as the disgust in Clove's dark eyes settled into animosity. She was not cool with the tributes from One. That kid had a beef with everyone. I could relate in a way, but there was a difference. I had a blanket hatred and anger towards people. They all sucked, done deal. I'd realized this long ago; I'd learned to pick my battles.

Clove, on the other hand, hated everyone and yet took things personally. Nobody was on her good side, you were either on her bad side or her People Who Need To Die List. I hoped I was only on the bad; Marvel and Glimmer, I saw plainly, were promptly added to the List.

We spent the afternoon wandering around the Training Center, competing to outdo the others at every station we visited. (Clove seemed to relax a little when she bested Glimmer in knife-throwing.) Obviously we couldn't really be buddies with one another under the circumstances, so we just created an alliance of sorts. The closest we got to friendship was snickering at each other's bloodthirsty jokes.

Glimmer hung on my arm a lot, which was flattering but somewhat annoying. Marvel made inane cracks with every other sentence. Clove marched along in the back, shooting us all evil glares.

I was exasperated with them all. What a bunch of idiots. Ironically, we'd all be dead within the month, or at least all but one, but I couldn't see that as a reasonable excuse not to dislike them now.

Clove continued being her disturbing self all day, with an extra helping of malice. Crazy child.

Of course I ignored the fact that I was feeling pretty straight-out bitter myself. I was still ticked about last night. Who did those two flaming (literally) twerps think they were? They came from Twelve, hello!

These same twerps were here of course and they got under my skin way more than Clove's less-than-becoming attitude, which I was accustomed to.

They hung out together a lot, laughing and talking, as if they were preparing for some happy relay race instead of the brutal Hunger Games. Also the boy, blonde and stocky, seemed to have it bad for the fiery (pun intended) dark haired girl. It remained questionable as to whether she returned the feeling or not, but it all just disgusted me further. They had no friggin right being companionable. Now was NOT the time or place!

I sneered in their direction every time I glimpsed those two. Which was fairly often. For some reason I wished Clove would ask, in her uncaring way, what my problem was, but she was ignoring me. Mad for her own random reasons as usual. So I just sulked some more and took out my frustration on Marvel when he challenged me to a sword fight. He ended up regretting it, though it was an annoyingly close match.

Marvel gave me a cocky leer and sauntered off. I went to throw spears, having- happily- managed to dislodge Glimmer from her hovering point near my elbow. She'd drifted away when Marvel and I started dueling.

Of course all good things lead to something bad eventually. I'd barely gotten a grip on my second spear when that leechy girl returned with back-up.

"Cato!" she cried, too sweetly, hauling a curly haired boy and a lean dark haired girl with her. "Meet the tribs from Four!"

Tribs. Really. I hurled my weapon and was grimly satisfied when it struck the chest of my target with a forceful thud. Then I graced the three imbeciles with smirks all round. "A pleasure." It _was_ a pleasure... imagining taking them all down in the arena.

Glimmer dove off with enthusiasm unsuited to her stately figure, still with the two other kids in tow. My mouth quirked all on its own when I saw where they were headed.

Just beyond them, obviously the object of Glimmer's attack, I recognized a very familiar small human at the knife station. Her body language was scowling, no doubt about it. I knew better than disturbing that girl in her present mood.

Obviously, Glimmer didn't.

I perked, happily.

A/N: What's up in the fanfic world? I'm so tired of sitting here typing... :/ Read, review, favorite, follow; all my love forevah! 3


	5. Part 5

_A/N: Hey, so sorry, found I left out a few words when I typed out this chapter (so annoying!) so I had to edit and up date it... the rest is all the same..._

A/N: Aaaand I'm back. With a plot that still belongs to me and characters and backdrops that still belong to S. C.

I give you...

 **Part 5**

Clove POV

It was night. I wandered through the expansive second floor of the Training Center's Residential Tower, as it was called by the general public. Through huge windows regularly placed across the walls, I could see the Capitol lying, stretching vastly to the horizon. A sea, an ocean, of swelling, winking, dazzling lights, every size, every color. The view was hypnotic. I stopped at a tall window and stared for a very long time. Or maybe it was just ten minutes. The sparkling landscape messed with my mind.

Dinner was over. Typical to me, I had eaten very little. Food was barely a staple by me. A sharp blade, yes; a roast turkey, no.

I figured that would work in my favor during the Games. They were, after all, the Hunger Games. Starvation was one of the top killing tactics of the Gamemakers, apparently right up there with strategically placed "disasters."

Cato was already in his bedroom. Drinking wine, maybe, or scheming my death. Or plotting out new pick-up lines for use on Glimmer tomorrow to make her fall farther for him. How a girl that heartless and hateful could actually fall for someone, even, Cato, was beyond me.

But it seemed she had. Like all the mindless twats before her.

Sometimes I wondered whether I was the only one to see the deep well of rage under Cato's layers of sarcastic cheer. I couldn't understand it- what did he have to be mad about exactly? His mother seemed to dote on him, which was more that I could say for mine, at any rate.

His mother. My mother. Our families. I thought about them for the first time since coming to the Capitol. I didn't waste time on my people. They weren't fond of me. I was their tool to success and fame, and you don't love tools. You use them.

Not that I protested when I got only a case of knives for my last birthday. Knives were more than fine with me.

But Cato's family. True, his dad had seemed pretty formidable the few times I'd glimpsed him, but his mother used to come watch Cato train. She'd send him lunch, or she'd bring it herself, despite having several servants. When she looked at him, I saw adoration for the strong blonde guy who stood a head and a half taller than her. He was still her baby. Always.

The only time Cato's rage faded, and his sarcasm disappeared, was when his mother was with him. It was like he suddenly felt safe enough to let his guard down. Despite the fact that she could neither hurt nor maim, much less kill, anyone, his mother was his guardian angel.

Hey, don't look at me. I notice things. It's a gift. I don't just sulk. I watch.

Would Cato miss his mom now? Probably. I hadn't thought of that before.

Weird idea.

Cato missing someone.

Weird.

He was upbeat, sarcastic, angry. Not lonely.

I turned from the maze of lights and headed across the Tower's polished floor.

Cato's door was open a sizable crack. Light slanted out in a brilliant white chunk. I went up to the opening, looked in. His room was mostly like mine, except there were lemon tarts on a plate by the bed, and the bed itself was very unmade.

Cato lay in the middle of his messed up sheets, left hand holding a remote and right fingers tapping erratically on the mattress. He looked vaguely disturbed, studying the big screen on his wall.

Suddenly his face snapped toward mine and he jerked. I'd surprised him. He looked really, really odd without his signature smirk-scowl-sarcasm thing going on. Certainly he didn't appear to be plotting anyone's death, or devising flirtation techniques. Also there was no wine.

"Cato?" I said.

"Huh?" he demanded.

"Do you miss your mother?" I asked, because I needed to know.

Cato POV

"Cato," she said, "do you miss your mother?" Standing in my doorway, light flooding her small figure, large long-lashed eyes blinking slowly, she asked me that.

I squinted my eyes at this scrap of crazy, mostly covered in jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair appeared to have been brushed lately.

"What?" I said.

Her dark gaze met mine, straightforward and kinda hostile, because that was how Clove was. "Your mother. Do you miss her?"

I scowled. For some reason this made her perk up a bit, don't ask me why. "Yeah," I said, because I did. I missed not having someone who cared there to lighten the weight of being surrounded by people who didn't.

But I did have Clove.

What a random thought.

"Oh." She gave me some sort of shady look. That girl's eyes were almost perpetually narrowed, I swear. And her strawberry lips almost perpetually in a sulk.

I felt annoyed and a little vulnerable, an unpleasant feeling. What was this kid's issue, anyway?

"Your dad?" Clove added.

"What? _NO!"_ I snapped. The idea.

She nodded a little, lifting her pointy chin. Apparently she'd seen that coming.

She stood quite still, silent. I slouched on my bed, fiddling with the sheets but also quiet.

I thought about my father, unwillingly. Of course what you don't wanna think about is always what hounds you the most. He wasn't a man. He was a beast and I was his guinea pig.

When I looked back up my eyes met hers. She was watching me, her eyes curious. Thoughtful.

"I don't miss anybody," she said abruptly. "No one."

Then the little scrap of crazy slipped out. Clove never said hello or goodbye. She just came and went.

Clove's eyes always reminded me of dark chocolate. Liquid. Luminous.

But unforgiving. Always.

 **A/N; Yeah, I know this update comes right on the heels of the last one. But I needed something to do... And yeah, maybe that's pathetic! But go read my profile. It will warn you clearly of my insanity. =) R &R, F&F, thank you darlings...**


	6. Part 6

**A/N: yo! So glad to be back, couldn't charge my laptop the last few days. :(**

 **Loved the reviews, thank you**!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Once Suzy's, always Suzy's.

 **Part 6**

 _She, A spark in the dark, a light in the night;_

 _And she, Mysterious and beautiful_

 _-Laza Morgan_

 **Cato POV**

I worked like crazy, the few days we had left to prepare for the games. Most of it I did alone with one of our mentors.

Clove was working herself out too. Every time I glimpsed her, she was gleaming with sweat.

Following that were the private appraisals with the Gamemakers. I aced mine. Clove did too. But we'd both known we would. The girl from Twelve, however, topped both our scores. It really didn't sit well with me. At all.

And after that, the interviews.

I knew how to behave- as myself, but generally more likeable. It shouldn't be too hard. I just had to remember not to be condescending to the Capitol people. They rubbed me the wrong way, with their grotesquely bright clothes and faces that appeared to have been colored by way of painting-by-numbers. Not to mention they all ate way too much. And were so incredibly... shallow.

So here I stood by the glass elevator door, shifting restlessly as I waited on Clove again. My stylists had actually stuffed me into something presentable this time, a black suit with some strangely vinyl-like shiny gray jacket. Also they'd spent about a decade on my hair, gelling it, whisking it with combs. How very pointless.

 _This is a disaster,_ I thought, a sudden sinking weariness spreading through me. It was quiet and sickish and it felt like despair.

Reality, I suppose, was catching up with me. The fact that I had known this was coming, had trained for it most of my life, didn't help. I was overcome with a sensation I hadn't experienced since that day when my father caught my thirteen-year-old self sneaking some of his whiskey.

Panic.

It was ridiculous. Why would I panic now? Right before the Games would be much more appropriate. Because even though I was sure I would win... I wasn't actually sure. And even if I did win, people- children- would die. That hadn't really bothered me before. I was calloused to the idea. But Clove would die too.

Everything jumbled up in my mind. Clove was my one piece of home, like it or not. Her weirdness grounded me.

My chest hurt. I began to sweat, breathing thickly.

I was messed up.

Then I saw her coming towards me, a scarlet orange flame flickering closer and closer as she walked stoically to where I was waiting.

Her dark gaze met mine with all its steadiness and distrust and I got it together again. Clove was standing in front of me, stunning in a sparkly fire colored gown that left those small, slim arms and shoulders really... bare. Her skin shone in the light, polished, milky. Her hair was pulled back softly into a twist, making her look older. Apparently her stylist had done something to her lashes and eyelids, because her eyes appeared bigger, darker, than usual.

Alluring. Clove, with her pointed chin and small freckled face, was alluring.

 _Whoa._

 **Clove POV**

Cato studied me with an expression that looked to be akin to consternation. I was unimpressed.

 _Glimmer_ _will_ _swoon_ _tonight_ , I thought. Cato was dashing. A black outfit under a smoky silver jacket brought out his deadly beautiful looks, highlighting his eyes. I felt awkward in my dress, standing directly in his line of vision. It was low-cut, shoulderless, sleeveless. It made me feel very exposed.

So I frowned and headed abruptly into the elevator. I'd show him tonight. I'd show him he wasn't the only one capable of making people love him. This I stewed through all the way down, interrupting my plotting eventually when he kept blatantly watching me.

"Stop staring," I snapped, angry.

He did his big eye roll thing, feigning innocence. I sniffed and resumed ignoring him.

My palms were sweaty, an unpleasant sensation. _I can talk to Caesar,_ I told myself, trying for reassurance. Conversation wasn't my top skill but I could pull it off. I hoped.

Also Caesar had been doing interviews for years, he was good at it. I was pretty certain he would make it easier than, say, President Snow would, at any rate.

I looked down at my sunset-hued dress. It was beautiful, I had to give the stylists that. The texture was softly crisp, tissue-y, and if I momentarily forgot the fact that I could see my own cleavage when I glanced down, the glowing orange color felt comfortable on me. I never was the pink-and-purple type.

Cato and I joined the other tributes to file up onto an immense stage. The whole thing was literally flooded in light, causing us to appear rather shimmery. That didn't keep me from feeling like a nervous little kid, particularly when I caught sight of Glimmer.

She appeared to be a source of light all by herself, her see-through golden gown glowed so brightly as it clung to her curves. Gleaming buttery waves cascaded down her back.

I promptly went from feeling scantily clad to absurdly over-dressed.

My chin went up as I sat carefully in my appointed chair, folding my hands neatly. I wasn't letting Glimmer get me down. She was just a stupid, flirty, shallow-minded idiot. I was better than her.

Of course the Litttle Golden Whore got the first interview. Not that she was the one who planned these arrangements, but still. A strike against her in my book.

After she had batted her eyelashes at Caesar Flickerman numerous times, hit on the entire audience, and giggled gratingly, it was Marvel's turn. He was an even bigger idiot, but that was to be expected. Nor could any amount of stylists make him look handsome enough to erase the goofiness.

I was momentarily proud of Cato.

Then Caesar hollered my name and I forgot every other tribute. My limelight was here and I was scared of it. Just a little.

I walked up to my blue interviewer (he's a different color every year), shook his hand, and took a seat. Okay, more than a little. Scared, that is.

"So Clove!" Caesar beamed on me. It was the first time I'd seen someone with blue lips beam. Probably no one else could pull it off that well. "You are stunning! But I believe"- he tapped his chin elaborately- "you have proven yourself capable of far more than looking lovely... though I must say you do that very well too. I hear you scored a nine in training, that's very commendable. Isn't it folks?"

The audience cheered in response, hyped up from all the recent partying that took place every year to celebrate the Games. I smiled at them and at Caesar. "Thank you," I said, waving to the sea of faces. They roared again.

"I know we are all very eager to hear your thoughts on the upcoming Games but first, tell me, what special skills do you have that we should know of?" He tilted towards me, looking secretive.

"Knives," I told him sweetly.

"Knives! As in throwing?"

"Yes. I throw them," I told him with sugared sarcasm. "And I don't miss. Ever."

"Fascinating! Fascinating. So Clove, tomorrow is the Day. Tell me, how do you feel?"

"Like stabbing a couple people to warm up," I replied, serene.

"Ahh!" He fell back in his chair for effect. "Folks, we have a spitfire!"

To which they cheered again.

 **Cato POV**

I watched Clove return to her seat and now it was my name Caesar was bellowing. That man had vocals like you wouldn't believe.

Seating myself across from him, I drew up one leg and studied his blue, pomped up ponytail. It made me wonder what kind of a man would consider going out and being seen in that get-up. _Nowhere_ _but_ _the_ _Capitol_ , I thought.

Caesar, gaily unaware of my scrutiny, cut right to the chase. He asked how I felt about being here, a question he repeated to each tribute every year, with slight variations.

"It is an honor to represent my district," I recited, lying through my teeth, smiling, angry.

"Ah! It is indeed, young man! So tell me, do you feel you are prepared for tomorrow, Cato?" He looked at me owlishly.

I stared him down, showing only determination, no fear. "I am prepared, vicious," I told him, "and I am ready to go."

 **A/N: Okay there we are. Part six. I think some of Cato's words may come directly from the movie, in which case the credit goes to Lionsgate and whoever wrote their script...**

 **Oh, and I changed the cover photo. Comments?**

 **The usual drill applies, R &R for love. ;) ;)**


	7. Part 7

**A/N: Hi there, love you all, still don't own it, yada yada.**

 **Ahem.**

 **Part 7**

 **Cato POV**

I watched each of the tributes during their interviews, noting any weaknesses I could prey on later, any strengths I would need to deal with. After District Four the faces kinda started to run together, boring and monotonous.

That, of course, was before the little dark haired female from Twelve set herself on fire for Caesar and lived to tell about it. In fact, the only person who topped her performance was her blonde sidekick, when he revealed what I had known of all along... his love for Katniss. Talk of ground breaking.

(Ah, young love.)

That was her name. Katniss Everdeen. Everyone in the Capitol (probably all the districts too) knew her now. She wasn't just a fiery tribute, she was everybody's flame. She wasn't just Blondie's heart throb, she was the entire Capitol's sweetheart.

 _Crap,_ I thought. _There will be no beating those two._

…...

I considered this piece of misfortune as all of the tributes left the stage and returned to the Tower. It would still be relatively easy to take Twelve down in the arena, physically, but that wasn't the only thing involved here. I knew full well that the Gamemakers manipulated the outcome of the Games so that the appropriate candidate won. Also there was the issue of sponsors. Those two would have... many.

Once I entered Floor Two, however, I forgot the tributes, the sponsors, the Gamemakers, the very Games themselves.

Clove was crying.

Seriously. First I heard a sniffle and glanced over at her, mildly surprised. Clove was scrubbing her face with her palms, viciously, jerkily, lashes wet and eyes flooded. She looked wierdly lost and small, pulling her shoulders together she trailed aimlessly down the hall.

Clove was never aimless. She always had a purpose.

I stared at our mentor, who shrugged helplessly with a long-suffering expression. Meanwhile Clove slipped into her bedroom and the door swung shut with a thud.

Not thinking at all, just acting on impulse, I went right in after her. Her door wasn't even locked.

Clove was sitting on the floor among her pillows- not a single one of them was left on the bed. Her face rested on drawn-up knees, wrapped in slender arms. The smooth slim shoulders trembled.

I shut the door and approached her tentatively. "Clove?"

She started, gaping at me with huge eyes. I got the feeling that if she weren't choked up, I would be hearing severe orders to leave now.

I sat down instead, Indian-style, in front of her- close, in case she tried to bolt. We surveyed each other and my chest hurt at the sight of her miserable small face, cheeks wet and eyes raw. She looked heartbroken.

There's only so much a guy can take without doing something. I reached over and scooped her to me, between my legs, wrapping her in my arms. I gathered up the yards of crushed orange skirt, clumsily, tucking them around her.

"What's going on?" I said.

She shuddered, sighed. "My token," she whispered huskily. "They took away my token."

All participants of the Games were allowed to bring one token, representing their district, to the Games, usually a piece of jewelry. Clove's was a small bronze heart locket. I'd seen it.

I stared, bemused, at her wet, troubled face. The girl who had nothing to lose was in pieces because someone had taken her necklace away.

 **Clove POV**

Cato was quiet a bit, studying me. I didn't really mind, still vaguely confused that he was in here. Acting _concerned._ So I blinked and wiped my face sloppily. Who knew how awful I looked. Some strands of hair stuck to my cheek. I sniffled.

"Glimmer had her token swiped too," Cato remarked. "It was a ring with a poison spike inside. They said it was a weapon and had to be confiscated, so she couldn't keep it." His voice sounded as if he was trying to soothe me and cheer me up a little, maybe.

"I hate Glimmer," I snapped through fresh tears. My own voice was strangled and way off-key.

"Kiddo..." He trailed off. Eventually he resumed. "What's going on?" Maybe it occurred to him that he was repeating himself, because he added, "Was it special?"

I shivered and tried to sulk.

He tickled me. Literally. Nobody ever, ever tickled me before. I was so startled.

Then I began to giggle. That was probably a first too. I couldn't help it. I'm very ticklish, it seems. He didn't stop right away either, until I teared up again.

"Okay," Cato said sternly, pulling me back against his chest, sitting me up straight.

I sobered, feeling sad and sulky and wanting to elbow him. So I did.

"Ow." He was mild about it. "Why did they take your necklace, Clove?"

I didn't want to admit that Glimmer and I had had the same idea, but it appeared I had little choice in the matter. Fine. "There was a blade inside the heart." I was pretty proud of it too. All you had to do was pull the clasp on the heart's side and out shot a miniscule knife quite capable of slitting a throat. Not that it would, now. Unless I got my hands on it again of course. In that case the Capitol would be a bloody place...

I felt him smile and I sensed he did it unwillingly.

"It' s not funny," I told him shortly. That was true. The locket was mine. Nobody had given it to me or bought it for me or lent it to me. I had bought the knife and the necklace both, with coins I had sneaked out of my mother's supply. (I did that a lot.) And I had worked hours and hours, putting them together, rigging the anatomy just so, until everything worked like clockwork. It was mine. Nobody had any right to it except me. Ever.

"It was mine," I wailed, and buried my face in my arms because another bout of tears attacked me just then. "They took it. It was mine," I whispered.

Cato leaned forward so that my back was snug against his chest, tucked his chin into my shoulder, and covered my arms with his as I hugged my knees.

"I know," he said quietly.

I felt his heart beat and I knew I was perfectly safe for the first time in my life.

What a strange guy.

 **Cato POV**

Clove's hair was soft under my chin, against my face. Softer even than it looked, and goodness knows it looked the consistency of a feather. I'd wanted to see for myself if it felt that way, often enough.

She felt very small and fragile, wrapped up in me. Basically she was- the only place she wasn-t surrounded by me was straight forward, and then only if you didn't count my feet being further out than hers and my arms over her arms.

I liked it like that.

It was a dreadful idea of course. Tomorrow we would be enemies. We might have to face off, even. She might kill me. She probably could. I might... kill her?

Could I? I held her slender body a little closer and pretended I could. Later.

Because I knew I couldn't. Ever. No matter what happened. And it was dangerous.

 **A/N: I hope ya'll love this chapter as much as I do =) Next up, in the immortal Caesar Flickerman's own words, "The 74th Annual _HUNGER GAMES!"_ And in the equally immortal Effie Trinket's favorite catchphrase: "May the odds be ever in your favor!" *Insert very prim, beaming expression.* K, catch ya later, peoples! R &R for love! **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey y'all! K, well, I regret to inform you these characters do not belong to me, nor do the Hunger Games. So sorry to disappoint. (That was the disclaimer, by the way.)**

 **Warning: Be aware that there will be blood and violence in this and the following chapters (Hunger Games, you know.) Also please bear in mind that I am not in favor of this kind of aggression being used, particularly by children- I am simply trying to keep the characters more or less aligned with the ones shown in the books and movies. These children have been raised to think violently and therefore do and can hardly be blamed, given the circumstances, but I would not recommend you to use that mindset as your role model!**

 **And now... * _Cannon_ _fires_ * Introducing the Hunger Games ( _my_ _way_ )...**

 **Part 8**

 **Clove POV**

I stood in the stupid glass half-capsule and waited for it to close, propel me to the arena. So that the Games could begin and the pointless wait would be over.

I was angry. I was angry because of the horrid woman who had shot a tracker into my arm, giving me the highly disturbing feeling of having a marble under the skin of my wrist. It was aggravating and stupid and I was angry.

Finally a voice from nowhere and everywhere began counting the seconds down to zero. My stylist offered me an uneasy, gold-lipped smile as a glass panel slid around the front of me, leaving me in a complete, see-through cylinder.

I ignored her and held myself tense, disliking the unsettling feeling as the capsule smoothly took off and shot me through darkness.

Slowly I emerged into the arena, telling myself to keep my balance. No part of me desired to be blown up before the games even began, and that was exactly what the ground was rigged to do if any one of the tributes stepped off their mini-platform prematurely.

Comforting, of course. The Capitol was so very good at that.

The gong sounded after sixty disturbing seconds. Rigid silence transformed into scuttling frenzy.

I went after my obvious goal. The knives. They were quite beautiful, lying in the sunlight, glinting lethally. Refusing to be distracted my the chaotic massacre around me I dashed through the fray cleanly to grab whatever I could hold.

Momentarily I paused to sweep a glance of the arena.

Blood. A couple minutes into the Games of Death and there was so much blood. Red and horrible, it turned my stomache.

I was angry. I could handle blood- had killed numberless animals in training, besides all those dummies. _Animals,_ I told myself. _They are all animals. This is animal blood. They need to be killed before they kill me._

I had to throw a knife now or I might never have the guts to do it.

My eyes landed on Katniss-the-girl-on-fire. Perfect. I hated her anyway, spoiled brat. I built on my hatred so it would be strong enough to actually kill, I took a firm grip on my knife handle and headed her way.

Someone got into my line of attack. A kid from Nine. He and Katniss were tug-of-warring over an orange backpack. I didn't stop. I didn't pause. It would be impossible to, now. My steady hand brought up the blade, sending it flying with a flick of my marble-embedded wrist.

 _Animal,_ I told myself evenly, refusing to let his blood affect me. The Girl on Fire noticed me then. I focused on her, on the necessity of killing her. She took off. Serious legs, that one.

So I let her go. I'd get her later. For now I would follow my mentors' orders and stay close to Cato, Marvel, and Glimmer. And the Four tributes if they weren't dead by now. We needed to gang up, kill off the weak ones.

I didn't look towards the kid from Nine. He was the first human being I had ever killed. His blood was on my hands. I never wanted to see him again.

 **Cato POV**

Only the gang was left in the arena- Marvel, Glimmer, Clove, and I. The rest had either long since fled, or lay dead in the mix of blood and dirt near the Cornucopia where the supplies had been stacked at the beginning. Where the girl from Four was, who could tell. The guy from her district was out with the bodies. His murderer had carelessly left the spear in his chest.

We slipped away, into the woods. A Capitol hovercraft would reap the fallen once all the living had cleared out, and tough as we all pretended to be, not a single one of us wanted to linger near the dead. Most of them were made so by our hands.

All four of us had been trained to believe that killing off the tributes from other districts was something desirable, reward-worthy. I didn't feel reward-worthy. In fact my feelings wouldn't have been pretty at all if I had let them be felt.

But I didn't. These were the Hunger Games. Feelings were not an option.

I looked down at Clove's head as she trotted with us, sticking near me, keeping her knives as close as she safely could. There was a smear of blood on her chin and more on her hands.

I wondered how many she had killed.

She hadn't said a word since the beginning of the Games and didn't seem about to change anything now. Her eyes absently followed the path we were taking, lashes catching amber light of the sun through the leaves. Her mouth was screwed up a bit, sourly, and her eyebrows looked perplexed.

We both looked up when the girl from Four yelled at us to wait, running toward us from a different section of the woods. She came up to us, panting, and fell in step.

"Where's your little buddy?" asked Marvel, ever the tactless idiot.

She looked at him with icy, hostile eyes. "The Cornucopia."

Silence. Even Marvel had heard her threat as loudly as the send-off gong.

Glimmer batted her lashes, smiling at me. "It's not night yet, let's go hunt up some tribs to kill. The more dead now, the less trouble later." Sexy she may have been, but her logic was gruesome.

She had a point though. I saw that. After all, the same logic had been drilled into me ever since I'd started training, years ago. The less people are in the way, the closer the prize will be.

"Yeah, might as well," I told her, glancing round to include the rest.

"Whooo!" whooped Marvel, leaping ahead. "Watch it! We're gonna getcha! Marvel's here!"

"Oh that will scare them," Clove said clearly, walking a bit behind us.

"Ah, it's the little sarcastic one." Glimmer was annoyed.

"Shut it!" snapped Four.

"Oh just move!" I ordered in exasperation.

"You'll want to do as he says, he'll snap your neck," Clove told Glimmer, eyes gleaming malevolently.

Glimmer tossed her head and latched onto my arm, coyly slanting her face up. "Aww, you wouldn't, Cato," she cooed.

"How original!" Four shrieked. "Cut it out, we have people to kill, you simpering bitch."

Glimmer practically combusted. I guess the B-word wasn't how she was used to being addressed.

"Here we go, people," sang Marvel, swinging along like he was looking for a nice picnic spot rather than future murderees. "Come along."

I set my jaw. It was going to be so much worse than I'd thought, for reasons I'd never expected.

 **Clove POV**

Eleven already dead. On the first day. I watched as the faces flashed over the dark sky, refusing to turn in the other direction even as the kid from Nine showed up, almost at the end. His meek, big eyes stared me down, accusing. Still I glued my gaze to his. I would not look away until he vanished.

We didn't kill any more tributes that night. But I didn't sleep much either. I lay on the ground, staring through the leaves at the heavily-starred black-velvet sky. It was beautiful, ethereal. And peaceful and quiet and very very distant. Down here, where we were, fear and violence clung to the very atmosphere. Down here the taste of blood and the musty smell of the forest floor hung heavy.

There was no blood in my mouth. But I had seen, smelled, so much today that I could taste it anyway.

Down here, there were very fresh memories to deal with.

…...

 _And I know it's hard when you're falling down,_

 _and it's a long way up when you hit the ground..._

 _-the Imagine Dragons_

…...

 **A/N: Well, that's Day One of the Hunger Games. Sorry for all the ugly stuff... I couldn't really skirt around it too much and still have a believable story. So don't kill me!**

 **Let me in on your thoughts- good, bad, mediocre... luv &kissies!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Tada! Hello! To make up for that last rather long break 'tween chaps I'm posting this one right after the last.**

 **Disclaimer: Nope, don't belong to me. Nope, I don't go by Suzanne. I go by big sunglasses. The crazy one, remember...?**

 **Part 9**

 **Clove POV**

Cato had the first patrol shift. I listened to his footsteps crunching as he strode around our little group, fading and nearing and passing me and fading again, over and over. It was a rather comforting sound. I sort of trusted him. Marvel wasn't smart enough to see danger if it smacked him in the face, the Four girl would probably kill us all in our sleep, and Glimmer... was Glimmer. But I knew Cato could be sort of trusted.

He was dangerous of course. He could kill me in half a heartbeat. But I didn't believe he would. Not at this point anyway.

His footsteps neared me again. I watched him, watched moonlight and shadow flicker over his chiseled features, highlighting his cheekbones, as he came closer. And I thought about him and our odd relationship. It had always been there since he'd grabbed me in training but it had become a smudge more obvious in the last week.

Technically, literally, and every-other-ally, Cato was my only friend.

It hadn't occurred to me before. But after last night- which, face it, had been really weird- I considered it. How strange. Maybe I had a friend in this world.

I should be thinking about survival, I told myelf. So promptly I did. For a total of three seconds.

Cato had made another round and was nearing me again but instead of passing, his steps paused. I turned my head and saw his boots. My eyes trailed all the way up, following his leg to his hip to his chest to his jaw.

He came closer, crouched down beside me and touched my sleeve. "Clove? Are you still awake?" His voice was low; he peered at me through the dimness.

"Yeah." I stared at him.

"Everyone else is sleeping."

"Such a surprise, in the middle of the night and all."

He snorted and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. After a little fumbling he removed his hand and extended it toward me. Something glittered in his fingers in the faint starlight. "Here you go."

I pushed up on my elbows. "What? What is this?" Cato flattened his fingers out and I saw delicate silver links strung across them. Jewelry.

"You need a token," he replied. "I found you one."

"Huh?" I picked up the cool chain with my fingertips, gently. It swung and glistened, a bracelet, dangling various sizes of tiny silver cubes from its links. "Where?" I demanded.

Cato smirked, apparently very self-satisfied. Leaning in, he hissed in my ear, "I stole it off Pratchett."

Pratchett. One of our stylists.

"While he was wearing it?" I hissed back, grudgingly admiring his devilishness.

"Sure thing." He made eyes at me. "Easy as all the cliched pieces of cake."

Whatever that meant. He watched me, looking very pleased with himself. I sat up, held the bracelet out. "Put it on me."

Cato took my wrist and did as I told him, very nimbly. It was easy to see how he'd pilfered the trinket in the first place, with such a light touch. His strong fingers brushed my skin, but just barely.

"There you go," he told me.

I held up my hand and watched the little cubes swing from my wrist. I looked at Cato.

"Cato," I said. "Thank you."

He squinted at the sky, grinning, sheepish. "Yeah."

Not actually having ever hugged anyone, I didn't really trust that I knew well enough how, to try it. So instead I found his hand and squeezed his fingers, gently.

 **Cato POV**

We were up early. Very early. Before daylight. The theory was that we could surprise some happy campers while they were still in dreamland. We were a silent bunch, stalking and stumbling through the trees. I marched ahead while Glimmer yawned a million times, Marvel blinked with owlish frequency, Four kept tripping on twigs, sniffling, and Clove walked silently and precisely a little distance behind us, her small hands swinging, knife held loosely in the right one.

I squeezed my own fist together. Trying for the hundredth time to erase the touch of Clove's fingers inside mine. It didn't work, just as it hadn't the last time, the first time, and all the ones in between.

I couldn't forget that feeling.

Great.

I was in the Hunger Games and my hand kept tingling because a girl- who could, and might, yet kill me- had freakin' touched it.

Not just any girl, either, which should be a consolation, but it wasn't. Because it was Clove, dark, sullen, moody, rude, sarcastic little witch, with a perpetually sour expression on those small pointed features. And freckles. And she was crazy, probably.

Oh great. Great. Lovely.

Something was fundamentally wrong with me and had been ever since I made the mistake of not leaving said crazy girl alone when she cried.

"Hey!" Marvel's high, stupid voice brought me to earth, albeit unpleasantly. "Smoke! Some idiot made a fire! C'mon guys! We go, we go!"

Glimmer gave him the most scathing look I had ever seen on a face, male or female, and turned to me.

"Move it," I said. "Make it an even dozen." I tramped toward the smoke with them, turning off my roaming mind, facing reality. Which was that for the duration of these insane Games, I was the Angel of Death.

That or a bloody corpse on the ground, to be scooped up by a Capitol hovercraft and sent home to my district, my mother, my father.

A failure.

I often tried to convince myself that I was in the Games because I was that confident in my ability to win, but in actuality... I was just afraid of my dad.

And I was in the Games because it looked like the only way to get any approval at all out of him. For despite the fact that I had been singled out by the trainers, I could have refused to volunteer. They weren't the President. But I hadn't. That was how pathetic I was. I was in a killing circus so that my abusive father would like me.

I snorted.

"Cato?" Glimmer, of course, the pest. "What's going on?"

"There," I improvised quickly, catching sight of a movement nearby. "What _is_ that?"

To everyone's utter shock, mine included, the blonde twat from Twelve edged out from behind a big tree, hands up. "Could you hold off killing me a few minutes?" he said seriously. "I have a proposition. I come in peace."

What a word choice. "Peace," I echoed derisively with a very sizable sneer. "Speak up idiot. I want to kill you already."

"We gonna kill you!" hollered Marvel with grating enthusiasm.

Clove interrupted. "Then," she announced, "we're going to find your little girlfriend and stab her. Many times. She'll _bleed._ All over the ground. And good riddance. Because she's a brat."

I was rather surprised at this outburst but Glimmer chimed in with a snide, "Yes, Peeta. She's a little too combustable anyway, isn't she?" Suddenly Glimmer was over behind Blondie, holding a spike to his throat.

"That's just it," Peeta replied steadily. "I'm hoping I can join you guys' team, if I lead you to Katniss."

For some reason both Glimmer and Clove perked at this. "Oh, you know where she is," commented Glimmer, teasing the skin of his neck with her spike.

"I know how to find her," he said quietly. "Let me go. I'll find her."

"Fine, Glimmer," I announced, "leave him alone. Get with it, lover-boy, we're gonna kill the idiot who made a fire and then it's either you or your girlfriend next. Your choice."

"It'll be her."

I nodded shortly at the group. "Move, before the kid with the smoke gets away."

…...

I didn't like to hear a girl scream. It was unnerving. And the girl who'd made the fire- she screamed. When I stabbed her, she screamed. Violently. Over and over.

"She's dead," I snapped. Nobody argued. We cleared out, cracking morbid jokes about that girl. I took a ghastly pleasure in it because, for some reason, for a fleeting time, it made me feel almost justifed for being the cause of the sheer horror in her eyes. The unabashed fear. The screams.

But the cannon didn't sound. A cannon always sounds when a tribute dies. How could that kid still be alive?

"I'll go finish her off," offered Peeta quietly when we began to argue. A few minutes later the boom reached my ears. Almost drowning out the girlish scream that kept echoing in my head. But not quite.

Peeta rejoined the group and I was thankful he had gone and not me.

I felt Clove's fingers inside my fist and startled. She was several yards away. Not touching me. I turned and stormed off before I completely freaked out. How had it all come to this?

 **A/N: And that concludes that chapter. Poor Cato, the Games are getting to him and he has girl troubles on top of that. Don't you feel sorry for him? R &R, please!**


	10. Part 10

**A/N: Hey... No groundbreaking news to report. But I do wanna put out there a great big thanks for the awesome _SmileSimplify_ , whose faithful reviews are inspiring and helpful. If all my readers pay such close attention to my story I am incredibly flattered! Kissies...**

 **Disclaimer: Ain't mine, unless you don't recognize it. This includes the opening decree of Part One, which was borrowed from the movie as I'm sure you noticed. All hail Suzy Collins and Lionsgate.**

 **Part 10**

 **Clove POV**

Something pressed my eyelids. My eyes flew open. It was just early sunlight. I relaxed...Ow **!**

My hands flew to my temples and I suppressed a fearsome wail. _Ow, ow, ow. It pounds. It hurts._ Oh lovely. A headache.

The red morning light streaming through the trees pierced my skull with searing needles. I turned away quickly and cringed. My legs hurt, I realized. My hips, stomache muscles, shoulders, the back of my neck... _OW_! My fingers flew to that sensitive spot with a shudder. I hurt all over. My body was killing me slowly.

I screwed up my face and lay stiff on the ground, willing the pain away.

Of course, that backfired.

"Clove?" Glimmer's voice shrilled far too loudly and far too closely near my head. "What _are_ you doing? Are you sick?" She sounded hopeful. Which gave me the strength to open my eyes without wincing.

I smiled at her vindictively, gradually pulling myself to a sitting position. "No Glimp. Just attempting to ignore your... smell."

Shifting away from Glimmer's outrage because I didn't feel like a confrontation, I carefully arranged myself with my back to a tree. The trainers back home had sometimes forced me to hike, to get in condition for the Games, but I hated it and avoided doing so at all costs. Obviously this was my payback. Dying a gruesome death of soreness.

I sulked.

The rest of the little camp was strewn about in various positions. Marvel sprawled under a bush, with a twig in his ear, snoring loosely. Glimmer had stomped away, brushing at her clothes and sniffing her armpits. (Ahem.) Cato was just starting to get up, slowly, from his position on the leaf-padded ground where his head had been resting on a rock. I thought that would hardly make a suitable pillow but it did appear to have moss on half of it, so whatever. Four was slowly pacing the perimeter of our spot; it had been her turn to take the lookout shift. Our blonde imposter, Peeta Meadowlark- or something- was curled up by another bush, still and quiet, but with his eyes open. Strange boy.

I closed my own eyes, listened to the leaves rustling gently. Ow, my head.

Cato could be heard getting to his feet. There was some shuffling, then Marvel snorted, yelped, and- I re-opened my eyes- sat up hastily, breaking all kinds of twigs.

Apparently Cato had kicked him.

"Get up," ordered my co-tribute, scowling. "We have to get moving."

Marvel whined, but lumbered to his feet and out of the camp, probably to pee. Glimmer reappeared, most likely from a similar errand.

Her golden hair was smoothly braided; it had been redone, I could tell. I felt my own head and found it was mussed, frizzy, my hair tangled and gritty.

Hooray.

Stiffly I pulled myself into a crouch; then supporting myself with a hand against the tree, I lurched to my feet. My head rang like a gong all the way up. I leaned back against said tree's rough barky trunk.

Marvel had returned and was clumsily gathering his things together. He tripped on a branch. The thought occurred to me that it was a wonder District One allowed themselves to be represented by such a goof.

Of course there were his spear-throwing skills. He was nearly as good as Cato there.

Cato himself was bellowing at us all to move it; he was hungry, we had to hunt for breakfast. Peeta crouched to reach under his pile of leaves.

"I got breakfast covered," he said quietly, dangling a sizable rabbit from one hand, holding it towards Cato.

We all gaped at him. Obviously everyone found it hard to believe that the unassuming, romantic, coal-miner-or-whatever-he-was, had just whisked a meal out of nowhere. And the rabbit was fat.

He looked at us and said, "The girl with the fire. I got it off her. I think it's good yet. Last night was pretty cold you know."

So Four built a fire, Cato skinned the animal, I fashioned a roasting rack of green branches, on which Glimmer hung the carcass, rotating it until it was sizzling brown all over, and nobody complained as we bit into the hot meat.

Oh and Marvel contributed water. He took our bottles to the creek and refilled them.

We left nothing but bones and skin to show for the rabbit.

"All right," announced Cato. "I have a plan."

And then it was all about the Games again.

We stopped being a bunch of kids sharing breakfast and resumed our wariness. We weren't just here to survive. We were here to kill.

 **Cato POV**

"We're going back to the Cornucopia," I informed the other tributes as Clove stomped out the last flickering bits of our fire. Really, it was ingenious. I had no clue why it hadn't occurred to me before. We were the most powerful players; no one would stop us from establishing camp wherever it pleased us to. And the Cornucopia was still spilling over with food and tools for survival left behind that first day. It was prime.

The others thought so too. Four, however, pointed out that someone needed to guard the supplies while we were out hunting weaker tributes, and also that it wouldn't be her. No one else volunteered either, but I was unworried. Every problem has a solution, and in this case it was simple. Hunt down some pansy who valued his life and hand him the ultimatum- death or guard duty. If he resisted, he died, and there was another out of the way. If not, we had a guard. Simple.

This went over quite well and we spent the rest of the day hiking back to the Cornucopia. It was quite a distance.

We marched steadily through the trees, staying alert to any signs of life outside our own. Anything that moved could be either: one- a harmless animal, which meant dinner; two- a dangerous animal, which meant a lot of fighting or running on our part; or three- another tribute, which meant chasing down and killing that person.

Twilight came creeping up on us.

Behind me I heard Clove stumble and glanced back. She'd been trying to hide a limp all day. This woodland trekking probably wasn't her style. Come to think of it, Four was mincing her actions a bit too.

They had good reason. I was a little sore too. Sleeping on the ground just sucked.

"Watch where you're going," Clove rebuked, bumping hard into my side.

I'd be more than willing to bet that was not an accident.

"Talking to yourself? Tut, tut, a bad sign." I leered down at her.

She frowned in disgust. Her shoulder shoved against my arm and she didn't pretend it was an accident, as we both knew it wasn't.

"Knock it off," I growled, mainly to distract myself from the awareness that her not-so-fond touch brought back the feeling of her petite hand in mine. Quite distinctly.

"I wanna kill Katniss," she complained. "Why didn't Meadowlark take us to Katniss yet?"

Meadowlark?

"We're just taking a detour, you bloodthirsty wench," I informed her. To be honest, I wasn't too sure of that Blondie's motives. I really doubted he'd lead us straight to the girl he loved, but I figured we'd get some use out of him then kill him. He might be an asset. And Clove and Glimmer had been oddly eager to include the guy. "Be nice," I added, unable to resist.

Clove stepped on my toe. She couldn't even dent my boot. I smiled derisively down at her as loosened strands of her hair blew back across my cheek. She looked mad.

Clove tucked the straying hair behind her ear, leaving my face feeling funny, and pouted. Her lower lip stuck out, drawing my attention to her mouth, small, velvety, a soft shade of strawberry. I wondered what she would taste like and got a strange feeling in my stomache.

So I looked away.

Marvel whooped and I saw that we had finally reached the clearing in which the Cornucopia resided. A welcome relief from my disturbing thoughts.

I was much too fascinated with this little killer striding along so close beside me.

…...

 _I've been around the world and never in my wildest dreams_

 _would I come running home to you;_

 _I've told a million lies but now I tell a single truth:_

 _there's you in everything I do_

 _-the Imagine Dragons_

… _..._

 **A/N: You know the drill... R &R... =}**


	11. Part 11

**Disclaimer: Wow, the Hunger Games are so not mine.**

 **Wait, I thought they were?**

 **No, never.**

 **Oh, right. Right.**

 **Ahem.**

 **Part 11**

 **Clove POV**

 _Crazy. Crazy. They're all crazy,_ I thought bitterly, trudging behind the pack of imbeciles I couldn't believe I was saddled with.

A very unfortunate turn of events had caused my righteous rage. We'd barely arrived at our new future camp when Marvel had discovered the boy from District Three hanging out with the leftover spoils. Of course the boys promptly handed him a choice betweeen death or guard duty and he even more promptly jumped at the latter. In fact, he seemed quite pleased to have that option. Anyway the guys were so invigorated at having their plans work this smoothly that after dining on bread, apples, and dried meat, all gleaned from the ground near the Cornucopia, they decided to take off again.

That's right. After a full day of walking they wanted to take a thirty minute break and head off into battle. After all, they reasoned, no one had been killed yet today, which was a waste, and Three Guy claimed he had seen someone running that way- he pointed- two hours ago.

Four appeared neutral to this decision. I was furious but hid it- sort of. Glimmer was steaming mad and didn't hide it at all.

Peeta was annoyingly agreeable about the whole thing and didn't seem to take sides.

We trudged off into the deepening night, leaving Three to keep watch over our extra supplies under pain-of-death. Literally, of course.

Several hours passed and no sign of any outside tribute. I kept choking my yawns. Marvel was not so subtle and just yawned loudly and frequently. Four was stony and unnaffected, snapping only whenever Marvel accidentally tred on her toes. Glimmer hung on to Cato's arm, passing time by flirting with him. Peeta kept quiet, marching stoically.

I respected him a little, in a way.

The same could not be said of my regard for Glimmer. That little whore. If she kept up her sickening nonsense someone was going to get hurt. Not a joke.

What was wrong with her anyway? She wasn't from our district, she would probably wind up dying at Cato's hand eventually, and yet here that girl was acting as if he was her lover.

Argh. I nearly gagged. How random and how unsettling.

The painful night dragged on and on. I entertained myself by plotting what I would to Katniss Everdeen when we found her. If Cato didn't stab her up first. I was pretty sure he was still ticked at her for getting a better appraisal score than he did.

It was probably midnight when we finally stopped to rest. Which should have been a nice relief but wasn't because apparently it was my turn to keep watch.

I marched slowly on burning feet, round and round, circling and recircling the rest of my group as they sprawled together on the ground. They'd practically piled on each other for warmth- the arena was quite chilly at night. Of course, nobody spared me a thought as I shivered and paced.

Glimmer, I saw, had curled up with Cato, practically against his chest. He didn't look bothered at all, but then again, he was already snoring. I gave the also-sleeping Glimmer a venomous look. _Whore, whore, whore._

Marvel yelped in his sleep, distracting me for a minute.

Peeta stirred, looking concerned without opening his eyes.

Four dozed between Peeta and Marvel, the animosity erased from her features for this short time.

In every dark corner, at every turn I made, the face of the little boy from Nine stared at me. He'd been at it all day. It was getting harder and harder to ignore his accusing eyes.

I sighed and walked, on and on, round and round.

 **Cato POV**

I became conscious to the sound of girls yelling. By the time I'd bolted upright and looked around wildly, I realized no one was dying. Those weren't cries of fear, but of anger. I rubbed a thumb into my eyes, blinked, and growled as I saw Glimmer, Clove, and Four standing several feet away, arguing forcefully and getting louder by the minute.

Only they kept interrupting each other, so I couldn't make out what the problem was. Marvel was still slumbering nearby, indifferent to the escalating racket. Peeta sat Indian-style on the ground, apparently at a loss. I raised my eyebrows and smirked a little as a volley of colorful words I had never heard from a girl's mouth before drifted to my ears.

Four screeched loudly and I clapped my hands over my ears, wincing. Okay, that was the limit. I motioned Peeta to come along and marched over to the furious females.

"SHUT IT!" I bellowed, instinctively grabbing Clove, and then Four. I nodded to Peeta to take Glimmer, which turned out to be a good move. She struggled wildly when he latched onto her but Blondie must be stronger than I'd given him credit for. Glimmer was stuck.

So were my two. "What is going on?" I demanded, shaking Clove and yanking Four back as she lunged away. Talk about multi-tasking.

"She fell asleep!" shrieked Glimmer, red-faced both from over-using her vocals and fighting Peeta. "We could have been killed!"

"Did not!" Clove retorted snappishly. She writhed under my vise hold.

"Oh you were so! When I woke up she was sitting on the ground and her eyes were closed!" Glimmer protested in outrage. "I'm killing you," she told Clove.

"Really," said Peeta. "Just get over it. Nobody's dead and we're losing time."

I almost liked him a little bit for a second.

"Don't look at me, I was just tryna shut these two up," Four added.

" _What's that?"_ yelled Marvel from somewhere behind our squalling bunch.

The other five of us lurched to attention, terrified mindless by the unexpected sound. "What's what?" gasped Four.

"Look!" Marvel was staring skyward. "Is that smoke?"

It was smoke. Creeping up over the horizon, bleeding a sinister black over the pale rose and yellow of the morning sky.

"Is that a forest fire?" asked Glimmer.

Clove broke away from my slackened grip and started marching purposefully through the trees.

"Where are you going, Clove?" hollered Marvel.

She didn't turn or pause. "If it's a forest fire we gotta get in water. Unless you prefer ending up a burnt black crisp in a Hovercraft."

Her words made way too much sense. We followed her obediantly to the nearby creek where we'd filled our water bottles several hours ago. One by one we waded into the water, out to the middle where it was waist deep.

"This is cold," complained Glimmer, while Four and Marvel shivered visibly and Clove and Peeta both appeared a little blue on the lips. The chill seeped through me like a slow shock wave, very... cold. Sadly Glimmer's description was right on point.

"We'll walk downriver," I ordered. "Others may come to the water as well, when they see the fire." Though I had more than a suspicion that it was Capitol-controlled inferno and would hardly sweep the entire arena. That would eliminate just too much of that suspense those idiots craved.

We moved towards the other bank of the river, opting to walk where the water was more shallow. There was no noise besides trees rustling and our own sloshing steps. Our little club was silent. Still weary of all the footing we'd done yesterday, with only a several-hour night. Now that I considered it, I hadn't had breakfast, either. So I dug some fruit out of my knapsack.

Walking is not an entertaining exercise. It does not occupy your mind at all, and mainly requires the lower body, leaving the hands and head useless.

I swung my arms to make up for this- and partially for balance on the sometimes slippery creek bottom. But my brain, having nothing better to do, roamed far and wide, visiting places I had no desire to visit.

The events of the last week ran through my head, twisted by memory to be tangled with the loud colors and piercing lights of the Capitol. Caesar Flickerman's exclamations echoed through my ears. I recalled my mother's gentle goodbye. _"I love you son. Always,"_ she whispered through tears, and Caesar's booming "Happy Hunger _Games!"_ reverberated over her fragile voice. I remembered her kiss on my cheek, her arms around me, and suddenly I remembered a smaller, dark-haired person sobbing in my arms. The feel of Clove's hair came back in a rush along with the feelings in my chest that night. How surreal that had been.

And yet the most real thing of this week.

My thoughts shifted away- I forced them away, and regretted it promptly. Because then I kept seeing the faces, hearing the screams. Seeing the blood of all the children I had killed. The girl with the fire, her terrified eyes going slowly blank. It all came tumbling back in when I was vulnerable.

My arm swung out in frustration and hit something. Four went flailing into the water.

She was very annoyed and very drenched.

I told her to watch her step next time and splashed on, thinking about killing Katniss Everdeen.

…...

 **A/N: REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**

 **Readers: shut it or we'll stop altogether.**

 **Me: oopsy!**

 **Readers: ….**

 **Me: LOVE YOU LOVE YOU LOVE YOU!**

 **Readers: =)**

 **Anyway, reviews are still appreciated. Thank you for all the ones so far, lovelies. ;)**


	12. Part 12

**A/N: I know there hasn't been much action lately, so I thought I'd give you the next chapter right away. =]**

 **Disclaimer: No.**

 **Part 12**

 **Clove POV**

Man. This walking thing was getting old. The fire caught up with us and chased us for about an hour, thick pungent smoke rolling over the creek in choking waves. But by midafternoon all traces of it had disappeared so we left the water, opting for hard land instead of continuing the tiresome slogging. Which was better but didn't really help the soreness scrubbing off the soles of my feet, or the aching in my throat, courtesy of smoke inhalation.

I had to trot a bit to keep with the rest; my legs were rather shorter than theirs. Marvel (I had yet to see him grow weary) loped around me in circles to irritate me.

It worked. I was irritated. He ended up in the brook as a result of a fierce push on my part when he was off-guard.

We were still hiking beside the creek because Peeta said Katniss was likely to stay near water. It sounded logical.

Still, I was a little confused with Peeta. Wasn't he madly in love with the girl on fire? Then again, everybody lied in those interviews. If saying the truth wouldn't win sponsors, you made something up that did. Of course, too, Peeta would work to his own good end, just as every other person I'd ever known did. If that meant ditching his girlfriend in favor of prolonging his life, no doubt he would do it. Nobody cared enough about anybody else to die for them.

I couldn't imagine it anyway.

Life. It was all about fighting for your own existance, your own dignity. If you didn't fight, you lost those two things and then it was over. It was the first method of self-preservation I'd ever learned.

Fight or die.

I thought about Katniss again. We all wanted her dead. Probably because she was so socially magnetic and yet from the poorest of the districts. We all had our issues with her. When she'd gotten a higher score than Cato did in training, he hadn't really appreciated it... Okay, he'd smashed a vase... I was pretty sure Glimmer was jealous that a girl from Twelve was held up as beautiful and desirable when she, from the Luxury District, no doubt felt she deserved to be the only one labeled as such.

Four and Marvel seemed neutrally unfavoring of all tributes, their attitude being, "we'll just kill anyone in our way." Peeta was taking care of his own hide.

And I had my own personal reasons.

Twilight was creeping in and we were still walking when Marvel the tireless let out his signature whoop.

" _There she is!"_

And there she was, the girl on fire herself, scrambling through a pool just a short distance ahead. She streaked into the bushes, but by that time we were well onto her. We chased her into the woods.

She climbed a tree.

Then she smiled down at us and wanted to know how it was going with us.

This girl had nerve.

Of course Cato rebounded first. "Well enough, thank you." Insert smirk. "And yourself?"

"Kinda warm for my taste." She was smug under devastating graciousness. She was playing well. "Won't you come up, join me?"

"Think I will," Cato said smoothly, softness of rage running through his tone. I knew his temper was close to snapping but wasn't sure why.

Okay, I kinda knew. She was just egging him on. It made him see red. Cato couldn't take disrespect.

Her antics certainly had me wanting to knife her. But she was too far up.

Of course Glimmer thought it was her right to shove her weapons at Cato in order to climb the tree herself. Cato just pushed her away. I would have felt gleeful but I was too pre-occupied, between my own frustration with Katniss and fear of Cato in beast-mode.

He didn't make it up the tree. Part way up a branch broke and he came back to earth- very literally- with a thud. Katniss was very high up by now.

Cato got up unharmed, though the thread between rational anger and straight blue rage had obviously snapped. He swore so hard without stopping for breath that I started to be curious as to how long he could keep that up and wondered if he would pass out.

Meanwhile Glimmer tried her luck but that girl was no tree-climber. She was back down in a pathetic hurry.

Not that she gave up. She took her bow and arrows and shot at Katniss, who was now way, way up. Her aim was so random that it was funny. Or would have been, if we hadn't all been so exasperated at each other and Katniss.

So we got into a big shouting match then. I thought I could probably climb up far enough that I could throw a knife and at least wound the girl, but I also thought Cato might kill anyone who said the wrong thing at that point, so I clammed and watched them argue.

Peeta finally convinced us to leave her up there for the night; as he pointed out, she really couldn't go anywhere, anyway. (Despite his logic, I was surprised he didn't get his neck wrung, a couple times.) But darkness was seeping through the forest, steadily growing denser, and we all wanted sleep more than anything else in the world.

We made a fire first, and had another rabbit- which I had killed this time- for supper. I watched Cato warily and saw him gradually cooling down.

Afterward I just crashed on the ground, too worn out to think. My burning eyes drifted shut, my throat rasped a little with each breath, and my aching feet ached on in my heavy boots that I was too weary too remove. I automatically held a knife close to my chest.

Tired... so tired...

Sleep was already crawling in at the edges of my drowsy consciousness when I felt a strong hand tentatively close around mine. Without knowing what was real and what was in my head, I weakly squeezed back as everything faded out.

 **Cato POV**

Screams. Shrieking. A panicked, "Cato! Get up!" A yell of "The lake! To the lake!"

What lake? The lake was back by the Cornucopia.

I struggled to my feet and the vague thought that this was just a rerun of yesterday morning blew away like a scared whisper. Roaring filled the air, wild golden streaks spiraled round and round before my eyes. It also occured to me that now I was running, stumbling from the chaos. Clove was dragging me with her, screaming like a wild thing as she scrambled around trees and bushes, pulling me along by our joined hands. The golden streaks became a swarm behind us.

Tracker jackers.

Horrified, I grabbed the still shrieking girl and took off at twice my former speed, Clove clinging to me like a monkey.

"Lake... over... next... hill," she gasped in my ear.

I followed her directions, but by the time I'd reached the crest of the hill my steps staggered and my brain seemed to be acting as carousel in my head. Round and round, twirling dizzily.

Stung. I'd been stung.

 _This is bad,_ I thought as figures began popping up all around me. Something whispered repeatedly, echoing soft and far, _"Cato... Cato... Cato..."_

Then my father's face was right in front of mine and I lost it. My foot hit something and Clove and I crashed to the ground.

Clove stayed wrapped around my chest as we rolled, over and over, into a bottomless pit, where the monsters were.

…...

 **A/N: Btw, Cato and Katniss' conversation was pretty much adapted from the book, so that's to Suzy's credit not mine... XO**


	13. Part 13

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, chances are it ain't mine. Here's to Su Collins. All hail Suzy.**

 **Part 13**

 **Clove POV**

Choking on adrenaline, heart beating erratically, vision hazy from the single fiery sting swelling up my forearm, I squirmed from Cato's grasp. The landscape swung wildly as I glanced around in panic. A few more feet to the water. I latched onto Cato's arm with both my hands, tugged with every fiber of strength I possessed, inching him towards it.

 _Just...a few...more...feet._

A sudden firm yank landed us both in the shallows of the lake. Cold, clean water welled up my waist as I dropped- crashed, really- to a kneeling position, straining, pulling Cato further in.

"Get under!" someone shouted.

I looked up to see hundreds of shimmering gold insects swarming in for the kill, their angry humming filling my head. Clapping my hands over Cato's nose and mouth, I held my breath and ducked, submerging us both.

Cold. Very cold. I barely stopped my gasp. Cato jerked. I clumsily pinned him down with my leg. The silence beneath the surface slightly stunned me. On all sides, including overhead, greeny waves flickered, shot throw by wavering light. We were perching in the center of gentle but constant motion. Even the ground felt unstable.

I shifted, then gulped as my feet slipped. A little frigid liquid leaked in through my lips and nose, scaring me. I longed desperately to cough and knew I couldn't.

Three words galloped through my rather dazed mind. _We can't die._

How long could Cato, unconscious, be underwater before he simply died? Eyes wide, I stared at my shiftily flowing surroundings. It hadn't been a minute yet... did we even have a minute?

Decision made, I pushed at the unsteady ground, launching both our heads through the surface.

Nothing shot a needle of poison into my nose. The humming had disappeared. Or...?

I watched in astonishment as a shimmering golden cloud swirled around above the water a good distance away. They seemed to be attacking a leafy branch that stuck out of the lake, moving of its own volition away from us.

 _Hallucinations,_ I thought.

Fire licked along my arm, creeping to my fingertips.

Cato was still jerking about so I didn't think he'd inhaled too much water or lost too much air. Hopefully. I didn't know how to do mouth-to-mouth; I had only been trained to keep myself alive, no one else. Not to mention I was also beginning to see black spots and two Catos. But I managed, painfully and haltingly, to drag us both into shallower water. There I sat and wrapped my arms around Cato, holding him, supporting him against my shoulder, waiting for something, I had no idea what.

 **Cato POV**

The world was rolling over me. I felt its weight move ponderously from my head to my chest. Colors blurred and wobbled before my eyes. Disturbing images cropped up, only to shred to pieces and be replaced by worse.

" _Kid._ " My father's voice. Domineering, evil. I attempted an answer but my throat was glued shut. My cheeks burned as he struck my face, kicked my legs from under me, shoved me away with his boot.

I was six again, whimpering in a closet. Hiding from the one man I should be able to trust. Wondering why he hated me, why I could never be good enough.

" _Come out for supper, CATO!"_ he bellowed and I froze. No, no,no. This couldn't happen. This wasn't happening. My brain blanked out... where was I? Who was I?

If he saw my tear-wet cheeks, he would slap me again. Sometimes he would laugh and say that might help my blood circulate and perhaps eventually reach my brain for the first time.

Time spun forward like a twister and I sat on my bed, back home in Two, several years older, several blows wiser,. Listening to the shouting coming from another room nearby. It wasn't my mother with my dad- he never fought her. She only looked like glass; she was in fact steel. He didn't obey her, but he never fought her.

It was my grandpa my dad was roaring at. They were both roaring. Whenever this happened, I would silently hope they might both die suddenly of heart attacks.

It _was_ somewhat likely, given the amount of energy they exerted.

So I even crossed my fingers for it.

I didn't know why they always fought, but they did. Every single time they met.

I'd been eavesdropping on old gossips' conversations for years when I finally put the pieces together. My father hated me because his father hated him. He abused me because it was the only thing he, as a father figure, knew how to do. I had so often wondered how someone, anyone, could treat his own son like that, and now I knew. It was _because_ I was his son.

It was sick and twisted, and it was real.

I grew up some when I realized that. When I realized that I wasn't the problem. My dad was. And my grandfather... not the one who argued- that was Mom's dad. The one who had died of alcohol poisoning when I was eight. My father kicked me, but not because I deserved it. Just because he knew nothing else.

That was the day the rebel started growing in me, and it continued until I was consumed with that rebellion, that anger, that had been dormant all these years.

Other faces, other places, drifted by. Screams. The girl I had stabbed by the fire. The tributes I had slain that very first day of the Games. All of my victims were pushing me, helpless, into a corner. I felt their countless weapons all over my body, their spears, their knives.

I died over and over, re-awakening every single time for more torture.

Katniss lept through tree branches like a monkey, cackling about the fine weather up there and dropping fire balls on my head. I tried to escape but I couldn't. All I could do was follow her like a dog.

" _Cato?"_

A voice, worried, anxious, very far away. Familiar but not threatening.

 _Here,_ I tried to shout. _I'm here._

Clove's big dark eyes flashed before me and I realized she was the voice. She was calling for me. I could feel her hand in my hand, her small body in my arms, but no response left my lips.

My mother must have taken a needle and thread from her sewing basket and stitched my mouth shut.

 _Small, so small... getting smaller...slipping away... get her... catch her..._

 _Gone._

 **Clove POV**

Dizzy. I was very dizzy. Everthing I could see- not much- swung in crazy arcs. My head buzzed wierdly. Someone gripped my arm, dragging me out of the water. It wasn't Cato, who was still lying against me, feverishly hot, muttering periodically.

I fought to keep my head up, struggled to block the hallucinations that kept closing in. Caesar Flickerman's face would flash at me over and over like a demented lightbulb, while I went up in flames. Then my eyes would refocus and I would be back to being pulled through the cold water, Cato's body hot against mine.

Suddenly we both lay on hard ground. Violent shivers set in as the cool air connected with my sodden body. Cato thrashed and yelped.

Alarmed, I shook my dazed head- setting off unwelcome explosions of pain within my temples- sat up stiffly, and put my hand on his cheek. "Cato?" My voice was hoarse, squeaky, worn down from screaming.

His face burned against my fingers and I winced. "Cato!" I shoved his wet hair back, grabbed his shoulders, suddenly frantic. How many times had he been stung?

I clamped onto his jacket, peeling it partially off with difficulty. Sticky greenish juice stained shirt and jacket both. Ah, there they were. One huge lump at the base of his neck and another on his shoulder. I stuck my hands under him, deftly reaching beneath his shirt, and found a third hard bump in his lower back.

Cripes.

I kept inadvertantly seeing and hearing things, and I had just been pricked once.

This was so not good.

How did you heal a person of hallucinations?

Was there some way to suck the poison out?

"Unless a sponsor sends medicine, you're just gonna have to sit it out."

 _Wait, what?_

Marvel. He was crouched on Cato's other side, looking entirely serious for the first time in my recollection. "We should take his shirt off, the juice isn't gonna help any. Then we can remove the stingers," he added, reaching to pluck the one out that was in my arm. I winced, screamed, clenched my jaw.

"You dragged us out of the water just now," I managed through gritted teeth.

He shrugged.

The stinger came out and I gasped, relieved.

"Where did the... bees... go?" Speaking took all my concentration. Black dots were gyrating before my eyes again.

"They left." Marvel grabbed Cato under the arms and pulled him up. The unconscious boy's head swung forward alarmingly. "Pull it off," Marvel ordered, jerking his chin towards the stained dark shirt.

I focused with effort and took hold of the shirt's hem at both sides. Marvel supported Cato with one knee and helped me drag it over his head.

Cato looked terrible. One shoulder was knotted up with poison. Greenish stuff oozed over the bumps left behind by angry insects. I wanted to puke.

Instead I wadded up his shirt and crawled to the water. I submerged it in the cool shallow ripples, rinsed it, and brought it back to clean him up with.

Cato yelped again when the cold, wet wad made contact with his skin. I yelped in reaction to his yelp and slipped, landing on his sticky hot chest. His eyes opened just as my vision started to black out entirely, and my befuddled mind only vaguely registered his wild, unfocused gaze.

The last real thing I felt before finally slipping into fullblown hallucinations was someone shoving me and I found myself thunking onto a surface that seemed to give a little.

Darkness came to swallow me.

…...

 _You are surrounding all my surroundings_

 _sounding down the mountainside of my left-side brain,_

 _You are surrounding all my surroundings_

 _twisting the kaleidoscope behind both my eyes._

 _- **Twenty One Pilots**_

…...

 **A/N: Thoughts?**


	14. Part 14

**Disclaimer: you must be kidding. You believe really I'm Suzanne Collins? I'm so flattered. Well why waste the opportunity? Here's my cell, lets do a selfie, you can put it on Instagram and hashtag it #ImAnIdiot...**

 **Part 14**

 _Do you believe in hallucinations, silly dreams or imaginations_

 _Don't go away cause I feel you this time_

 _Don't go away cause I need you there this time_

 _Do you believe in hallucinations, any dream or its revelation_

 _Don't go away cause I need you there this time_

 _Don't go away cause I'm making you all mine_

 _ **~Angels and Airwaves**_

 **Cato POV**

Running. I kept running, gasping, stumbling, entirely unable to stop. Trying to gain on my father, who kept slipping away from me, shouting expletives and laughing manically as he twisted Clove's limbs off one by one. Her screams went on and on, washing over me like fire.

I felt broken inside, my lungs were caving in, tears kept trying to break through but never really succeeding... so they just flowed down over my insides, flooding my heart. And all I could do was run, even when I realized I was losing track of the other two.

I ran into a tree.

The screams faded out with abruptness and I was left with a faint ringing in my head as I stared at a blurry smudge that resembled Clove's face. My chest burned, a voice that sounded like Marvel's spoke something indistinctly, and I thought, _I'm back, it was a dream._

Relief had barely set in when I was back in the woods, running again. I stumbled over a bloody girl lying next to a small fire and realized the screaming was back. She turned her head and her eyes met mine.

Clove's eyes.

Clove was dead and I had killed her.

This time I was screaming and the rest of the world was very, very still.

 **Clove POV**

My eyes snapped open to the echo of a shriek, my whirling world of agony, otherwise known as hallucination, growing fainter by the second as I stared at blue sky showing through gently waving leaves. I lay silently, resting, feeling the total absense of any kind of strength weighing down my body. Then I felt energy creeping through my blood again, slowly, bringing life back into my dull consciousness.

I sat up.

 _Ow ow ow._

Bad move.

I held my head. Squinting against the pain, I looked to my left. Beach, water, woods. I looked to my right.

"Cato?" My own voice almost gave me pause, it was so cracked. I realized suddenly how dry my mouth was. How swollen.

Cato was lying beside me as I suspected he had been all along, however long that might have been. His lashes fluttered open at the sound of my voice; he looked at me and I was surprised.

His eyes, always such a clear, violent blue, were clouded. Scared.

He also didn't seem capable of speech, so I filled in. "Cato!" I crawled closer to examine his wounds. "How do you feel?"

He just watched me with a very weird expression.

I ignored him and looked up at Marvel, who had walked up and and was kneeling on Cato's other side. "What did you do?" For the angry lumps had nearly disappeared.

Marvel held up a small round container. "Medicine."

"Sponsors?" I asked.

He nodded. "You both got some. How's yours looking?"

I glanced at my arm. Wait, was that the right one? I looked back and forth, left arm, right arm, until I realized I had been correct the first time. The sting just wasn't there anymore. It had almost completely disappeared, leaving a small red dot behind.

"I tended his first," Marvel said, nodding to Cato, "but they're healing slower, cuz there's more of them, I guess."

I squinted at Marvel and wondered when he had become smart.

He ignored me and handed me an apple from his knapsack along with one of my own knives. "Leave some for him. This is the last one."

I hacked off a chunk, eager but slow, trembling from exhaustion. Marvel shoved a water bottle under my nose and I promptly nursed it dry.

Cato continued to watch me like a drowning man. His face looked tired.

 _What's wrong with him,_ I thought, but couldn't voice, through the apple pieces I was cramming into my mouth.

"You were out all day," Marvel told me, returning the water bottle freshly filled with lake water.

That explained the setting sun then.

I pulled myself over to Cato again and tugged him up to sit against me, Marvel helping out my efforts by supporting Cato's other side, which was a good thing or I might have collapsed from the weight.

Grabbing the water, I slipped my fingers into Cato's hair, cradling his head, and tipped the bottle's brim against his lips. He drank obediantly.

I gave him several breaks and just held him, thankful, so thankful, to be back in reality. He leaned his head on my shoulder. I looked out at the low sun reflected on the lake, startled at the warmth that was flooding me.

Marvel absently studied the beach.

 **Cato POV**

I had been yanked out of hell and into heaven, and my brain was having a hard time processing it. One minute I was stumbling through the horrors of my own twisted mind, the next I was lying on sand, terrified but blessedly awake, Clove's face bobbing around above me as she hollered my name.

It just got better from there.

Now we were both just sitting on the shore in fast-gathering darkness. Clove was perched about a foot away from me, not moving, just being, and I knew I would never take her presence for granted again. Images from earlier kept flashing back into my mind, making me shiver. I studied her small profile in the last streaks of light. She didn't stir. Only a few strands of hair fluttered on a low breeze.

The Capitol anthem interrupted the night's silent peace and I could feel her tense from several inches away. Come to think of it, where was...

Glimmer. Her face shone bright and beautiful in the sky, unreal in its still luminescence. I felt the evening's chill suddenly wash over me. Glimmer, fretful, stunning, violent... Glimmer, nothing if not lively... Glimmer was dead.

Four's face, dark, sober, popped up next. Peeta's did not appear. He must still be with the living, though he certainly hadn't stuck around.

I looked over at Clove as the anthem sounded once more. She was trembling.

I discovered I was trembling a bit too.

Because I had watched, helpless, as she was hurt so often that day, I moved over to her, pulling her against me. She remained quiet but the shivers eventually subsided.

I set my chin on top of her head, liking the feel of her hair. Her hand slipped over to touch mine and my world rocked, then resettled.

That bracelet I had given her caught light from the rising moon, glowing at me from her wrist. I brought my other hand over to hold her head on my shoulder.

And as I looked out over the lake, I wondered.

 _What is going to become of us?_

…...

 _ **And I'll be holding on to you**_

 _ **~Twenty One Pilots**_

… _ **...**_

 **A/N: What indeed? Ideas? I do have it all plotted out already but your thoughts are still welcome... sorry it's short, longer chapter next up.**


	15. Part 15

**Warning: Some blood in this chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: You know it...**

… **...**

 **Part 15**

 _When angels fall, with broken wings_

 _I can't give up, I can't give in_

 _When all is lost and daylight ends_

 _I'll carry you and we will live, Forever_

 _ **~Breaking Benjamin**_

 **Clove POV**

Apparently chasing down Katniss had brought us in a circle. We discovered in the morning that the Cornucopia was only several hundred yards away from where we'd spent the night. Marvel, Cato, and I hiked the short distance- just a fraction of a way around the lake- before breakfast. After all, we had nothing left to eat and there was plenty back at the base.

Marvel seemed rather odd today. Angry. I wondered if Glimmer's death bothered him.

I wondered a lot of things but no answers presented themselves.

Cato and I ignored each other resolutely. He only talked to Marvel, and Three Dude, who had, in our absense, rewired the landmines around the Cornucopia to guard our supplies. I didn't talk, just feeling that this spared a lot of trouble.

We hung around camp most of the forenoon. Everything seemed relatively peaceful but I could feel unease mounting, surging around us.

It was strongest whenever I got near Cato. I tried to keep those occurances scant. With Cato there were too many weird feelings involved and I couldn't indulge in feelings- they were detrimental to the final goal and they were a weakness. And weakness I had never been able to- and still could not- afford.

So I avoided him. He didn't make it hard. He avoided me right back. But I couldn't help noticing that he seemed angry and troubled, though I refused to care or wonder about it.

Like it was new for him to be in a bad mood anyway.

Of course, making up- or ordering- your mind not to think about something, and actually not thinking about it, are two different things entirely. The most annoying flashbacks keot plagueing me. Cato's terrified eyes would reappear in front of me, their vibrant blue clouded over with a sad darkness. The feel of his fingers against my hair or his arms holding me snugly would slip back into my head. Time kept circling back to the night of the interviews, when I had cried and he had shown concern for the first time ever.

I remembered his touch on my wrist when he'd fastened the bracelet he'd stolen for me.

 _What's going on?_ a voice kept whispering behind my twirling thoughts, tickling my brain to distraction.

 _Argh!_

I shut off my brain once and for all by practicing throwing knives at squirrels. That finally worked. Knives always did that for me.

 **Cato POV**

We built a tent with some tarps and poles for a little scant shelter against, maybe, rain. It wouldn't keep anything else out, and barely that, but no one was willing to sleep in the Cornucopia. No one.

Don't ask me why. But I wasn't about to step foot in there either.

It wasn't just that the grass around there was stained red since Day One. There was something about that large hulking thing that made you feel like if you went in, you would never come back out.

By midday I had so much pent-up energy I could probably have built a log cabin. By myself. Barehanded. This was the Hunger Games- hello! Where was all the violence, the blood and action? This wasn't what it had cracked up to be. This was a torment of suspense.

And yet, often, I just felt bored.

Except when I caught glimpses of Clove. She made herself scant but I kept seeing flashes of her at the edge of our clearing, running from tree to tree, throwing knives up through branches. Typical Clove behavior of course, but that was what unsettled me. How I had gotten used to her typical, and now mine consisted of having her around, being Clove.

Again, this was the Hunger Games. Tributes did not get attached or even used to each other. They killed each other.

What would happen eventually? Just now, it all felt surreal. But nothing stays surreal forever. At some point...

She'd die? Was that it? I flinched unintentionally. Clove... dead? Trying to imagine it was the most horrible mind picture I had ever had the misfortune of conjuring.

Shaking, I drove my spear into the ground and scrubbed cold sweaty hands over my knees. I stayed bent over for some time, gripping my knees and staring at the dirty grass between my feet.

What a bad, bad, bad thing my life had become.

Lithe footsteps pounded past me and I heard Clove yelling to Marvel that if he'd start a fire she'd roast the squirrels she'd knifed for a late lunch.

She didn't acknowledge me. She'd avoided me all morning and I was pretty sure it had everything to do with last night.

Last night could be blamed on lingering hallucinations but she apparently thought she'd play it safe.

I couldn't fault her. Who was I to her, anyway?

 _You're a loser,_ my father's voice shouted back faintly from the back of my head.

And I found myself agreeing with him.

 **Clove POV**

My squirrels weren't very meaty or very tasty but we chowed them down to the bones anyway. We sat by our little fire, morose, wary, and I realized I wanted Marvel to make a goofy joke. Anything to push back, for a little, the dense, silent tension. But even Marvel was unresponsive and unlike himself.

I tried not to think about Cato, sitting as far away from me as he reasonably could, maybe farther. He was moody, scowling, which wasn't so unusual, but it was the complete lack of anger or sarcasm that bugged and confused me.

Cato- non-angry, non-sarcastic, yet not cheerful. There was just no such thing.

And I was suddenly angry at the Capitol. They had no right to yank a bunch of kids from their homes and dump them into some sort of inspired massacre. Cato, fierce and headstrong, Marvel, goofy and carefree- these boys didn't deserve this. Nobody had the right to do this to them. Why didn't someone just kill the President? Make it stop?

Why?

I stood, agitated, and raced away from my sullen lunch buddies, into the woods. Rage flooded me, more potent than I had ever felt it before. Where was the justice in all this? Was there none left in this twisted government? Why hadn't this occurred to me before?

I knew why.

I had been wrapped up in winning the Games. Submerged on my one single goal, my last hope, I had never stopped to examine the rules, the circumstances.

I beat my fists against a rough tree trunk, raging against the unbeatable.

Why? Why was it like this?

What was the point of killing twenty-three children every year? Nothing was being proven. It had been seventy-four years and nothing was changing. Where was the merit?

Then I realized that that was the entire point. Nothing was supposed to change. The Capitol liked watching us suffer, trapped in the palm of their collective hand. It gave them power. I knew firsthand the power of hurting others.

The bark of the tree was turning crimson.

I unclenched my torn fists and sank to a sitting position, watching blood run red down my hands. It dripped off my fingers, making weird, ticking noises as the drops hit dead leaves.

I watched as dark red puddles expanded with hypnotic slowness on the ground.

…...

I had been sitting stupidly, wishing for knives and targets, for at least half an hour, scarlet hands hanging useless between my knees, when I heard blundering footsteps and tensed up. _Who...?_ How far was I from camp, anyway?

But it was just Marvel. He stopped when he saw me, which wasn't right away. He was halfway past when he actually looked at me, and I was caught off-guard.

His eyes were red-rimmed, wet. Had he...?

"Clove," he said hoarsely. He had been.

"Heeyy..." I was tentative.

He stood dumbly, staring at me. And yet I felt he didn't see me. He saw nothing at all.

"Why can't this be over?" His hazel eyes pleaded with mine, suddenly refocusing, refilling with wetness. "I want it to be over," he muttered.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Gone," he said. "She's gone." He searched my face desperately. Then he dropped to his knees beside me and grabbed my shoulders. "I want her back!" It was a tortured scream. "Bring her back to me!" It was the final cry of a broken man.

He rested his forehead on the side of my arm, shaking, and I felt a hot wetness through my sleeve.

"Please," he whispered.

I sat in stiff horror. His shudders vibrated through my body and I felt as if I had been dumped into hot mud, was drowning in it. What was going on?

"Marvel," I said flatly. "Who?"

He dropped down beside me, head on my shoulder. "Her."

"Glimmer?"

He shook his head no against my neck.

"Marvel, who are you talking about?" I demanded without tact.

"She...the girl... Four..."

I was stupid in shock.

Since when were Marvel and Four friends?

He turned tortured eyes to mine. "Make it be over. Make it go away. Please, Clove. Please make it be over. Please." His voice trailed into a cracked, hoarse whisper. He slumped back against me and I tentatively patted his back, forgetting the fresh blood on my hands.

Where had the goof gone?

Then for the second time, I heard footsteps.

…...

 **A/N: Anyone feeling bad for Marvel right now? I feel so awful for him... aww.**

 **So many thanks to my awesome reviewers and followers!**


	16. Part 16

**A/N: Hello, hello. Firstly firstly, I changed my name. It seemed more fitting. And then secondly firstly, thank you to all those of you who favorited, followed, and reviewed my weird lil story. You are angels sent to make my life worth living. =)**

 **Firstly secondly (disclaimer): The Hunger Games universe isn't mine. I'm just dabbling in Su Collins' work of greatness.**

 **Secondly secondly: Read and be happy.**

 **Part 16**

 _All that I've known_

 _buildings of stone_

 _fall to the ground_

 _without a sound_

 _ **~the Imagine Dragons**_

 **Cato POV**

I was a little curious when Clove ran off but when I eventually realized how long both Marvel and she had been missing, something began eating away inside my chest.

Worry.

It finally got the best of me. **"** Stay here," I snapped at Three **,** and marched into the woods **,** hoping to goodness that the Capitol audience couldn't read me. Such a weakling, they would say, and from District Two,at that.

My father would smash the television. His son doddering away, wasting a perfectly good chance to show the world what a _real_ man was made of. My father wouldn't search for Clove. He would've snapped her neck long ago.

But I couldn't stop moving. I wasn't my father. Much as he despised the fact.

Just then I heard a faint shout that sounded like Marvel, and promptly headed at a run in the direction it had come from. Praying he hadn't taken it into his head to finish her.

Well apparently not. At first I thought she might have wounded him because her hands were bloody and she was sitting upright, while he was slouched against her. That seemed highly unlikely. She'd have killed him and left. Then I thought some other tribute had beaten up Marvel, but he looked fine- no blood, no bruises, no scratches.

Out of ideas, I studied Clove with a tipped eyebrow.

 _What?_ she mouthed. I saw Marvel's shoulders shiver a little, and realized that his face looked wet. She glanced at him.

Was he...?

"What's going on?" I hissed suddenly mad at both of them. What was the deal with him snuggling up beside her? Did she treat all guys like this? That seemed highly un-Clove-ish. And when had Marvel made the transition from her People Who Need To Die List to... well... whatever _this_ was?

She made confused I-don't-know eyes.

"Get up Marvel, we're going back to camp," I announced bluntly, rather depressed all at once.

He looked at me blankly. His eyes were red.

I held out a hand to pull Clove up- a gesture which though it appeared chivalrous, was in fact an action designed to ensure she followed my lead- but she defeated this plan and waved me off, turning to the dope. "Marvel," she said calmly. "We're going back to camp."

He sat up, scrubbing his eyes, looked at her, and nodded jerkily. They began to get up simutaneously.

Wait a minute. Hadn't I just said that exact same thing and he had looked at me like I was singing Chinese with a pumpkin over my head?

Thoroughly at a loss, I led the way back towards the Cornucopia. We were nearly there before I remembered to wonder about the blood on Clove's hands.

I didn't ask.

I was too annoyed.

This, too, was no doubt the reason why I stomped off by myself while Marvel helped Clove bandage her hands. Because, really, of all the nerve.

That was why I saw our darling AWOL Blondie, aka Peeta Mellark, and also why I didn't manage to kill him.

The snivelling little idiot was standing behind a tree at the edge of our clearing, obviously plotting to steal our supplies. For some reason he didn't seem pleased to meet me again, and dashed away into the gathering darkness.

Seeing as how there would be no time wasted on pleasantries, I followed.

When I had fairly clear shot, or as clear as could be expected in a rather dim forest, I aimed my spear and let it fly. I really should have waited for a better chance, a closer shot, but I never was overly rational in my bad moods. My spear caught him on the leg instead of the chest and I lost him in the black maze of trees.

My mood was not improved upon when I returned to the others.

After dark we lay silent and stiff beneath the shelter we'd built, while Three assumed guard duty. Nobody had spoken a word all evening.

At some point in the night I woke up. The tarp flapped in a strong breeze. Clove's deep breathing sounded somewhere near my elbow; she must have rolled closer to me in her slumber. Her shoulder dug softly into my back.

I listened and I wondered how many nights we had, to sleep in relative peace, before she, or both of us, were erased from the land of the living.

…...

Thankfully the fears of the night were quenched with morning's arrival. I woke feeling odd; then I remembered Clove and Marvel's weird little interlude and was annoyed again.

I wasn't the only one who felt low- Marvel was back to not talking.

So was Clove.

It occurred to me that the Games were getting old.

We each silently fetched our separate breakfasts from the stockpiled goods, and silently we ate. Funny, how little communication was actually necessary.

Leaving Three at camp to guard, we tramped our way into the woods, desperate to escape the sodden confusion, the angry heaviness, that crept into unoccupied minds and permeated the atmosphere.

 **Clove POV**

It was a tough day. I had rarely considered, in the past, whether my days were good or bad; it didn't matter; they were all just a means to an end. Or as I saw it, a beginning. Time passed. You dealt with it. Things would eventually be straightened out.

But this was a really bad day, it really was. I thought fretfully that I didn't want to deal with it. I, like Marvel, just wanted it to be over.

Unwilling as I was to care for anyone, that boy had me troubled. His eyes seemed oddly dull, fixed, the previous alertness completely wiped out. He gazed at nothing in particular for hours, all day really, expression glazing over. Yep. I was bothered by it. Search me as to why; I'd never liked the guy, he went out of his way to be stupid and exasperating. But something in me hurt whenever I looked at him and saw blankness in the face of the former clown.

And Cato- well my stomach knotted when I tried to figure that one out. I couldn't shake, couldn't get rid of, those stormy blue eyes.

So I tried not to try, but obviously that didn't avail to much. If it was gonna be a bad day, it was apparently gonna be just plain bad.

As a cherry on top of the pinnacle of awfulness, this silence was killing me. Absence of noise had never really bugged me before, but this was different. This did. This was dread- weighty in the air, preventing carefree clamor of any origin.

If birds sang, we didn't hear them. Because any light sounds such as that were sucked into the dense, nameless threat swinging over our heads and promptly smothered.

Nobody died that day. Which probably frustrated the Capitol's bloodthirsty throngs. I felt a twinge of bitter satisfaction to have thwarted their fun.

And yet they weren't the only ones.

I kept thinking violence would be such a welcome break from this... still fear. It suffocated.

I worked myself into the ground that night, dashing knives forcefully into tree trunks and racing to retrieve them, until my breath gave out and I collapsed, sweating, panting, and seeing spots.

Exertion. It felt so good again.

…...

We killed a kid in the morning.

He was from Ten. Crippled. It seemed an unfair strike. But when had life last been fair?

Never, in my recollection.

Cato had gone to refill his water bottle, only to promptly reappear chasing a boy and hollering profanity. It actually sounded good- at least he was talking again. Or screaming. Whatever.

The boy made it into camp, where Marvel swiftly tripped him up and started choking him. Cato came up with his spear.

The kid hadn't a chance. He didn't last a minute.

I found violence wasn't a relief. I had to look away.

The boys didn't feel the same. They seemed somewhat relieved, actually. I wondered vaguely if they truly were monsters now. Perhaps we all were no longer human. Perhaps we had lost that, somewhere in this cursed Arena.

But as we walked away, leaving space for the Hovercraft to come in, I looked up at Cato. His eyes met mine, so bright blue, so full of pain.

Something inside me cracked, splintered. I couldn't stand to look anymore, but my eyes wouldn't co-operate. Our gazes stayed locked. The splinters in my heart twisted ever so slightly.

And I knew he was no monster. He was human yet. So was I. So was Marvel, who trailed along behind us, shivering from something other than cold.

I felt such a huge need to just be near to both of them that I broke away, sweating cold, and ran, deeper into the woods.

They followed anyway.

I guess I knew they would.

…...

 _All I believe is it a dream_

 _that comes crashing down on me_

 _all that I hope_

 _is it just smoke and mirrors;_

 _I want to believe_

 _but all that I know_

 _is it just smoke and mirrors?_

 _ **~the Imagine Dragons**_

… _ **...**_

 **A/N: Well then. I am aware this chapter is exceedingly gloomy, but consider: were you in the Games, would you feel cheerful? Odds are, probably not. So that's how that is.**

 **Also and by the way, if any of you are pleased with the way I have portrayed Marvel's character, or desire to know how his and Four's unconventional relationship came about, or simply find yourself fleetingly curious about the guy at large... then you may wish to check out my new three-shot, _mAdNeSs_ : _Marvel's Story._ The first part is now up on my page, or whatever they call it these days. **

**End Author's Note (collective sigh of relief).**

 **Toodles,**

 **Crazy**

 **Yes. I changed my name. It seemed more fitting.**


	17. Part 17

**A/N: Thank you for the awesome reviews!**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine. Suzy's.**

 **Part 17**

… **...**

 **Cato POV**

A branch fell on my head.

"Ow!" It hadn't exactly been a light one. Twigs spattered down over my face and shoulders. "What the...?"

Leaves moved in front of me. On the ground. As if a snake was underneath them, but not. They collected in small whirling domes.

I became aware of the wind, coming in all directions at odd angles. It didn't behave like wind, which blows blindly straight. It behaved like a human- turning, gliding, sneaking around obstacles. With intent. The ground appeared to be alive and shifting, its mat of leaves churning into a strange spiral pattern, like a flower or a star.

"Cato... look at Marvel," croaked Clove, to my right.

Marvel stood in the dead center of the spiral.

He looked down. Leaves writhed, mounded, around his boots.

"Cato, they're crawling," said Clove. She was dazed; her tone was too flat to be normal, even for her.

They were crawling. Up his legs. We stood, frozen by the ominousness in the air.

I looked at my own feet just to be sure but the leaves there seemed to be slithering away. Congregating around...

"Clove!"

"What?"

"Move. Move _now!"_

She stared at the leaves that danced up her legs. She looked at me. She swayed a little.

"Move! _Run!"_ She didn't. "Oh, damn you..." I charged for her, scooping her small body over my shoulder. She clawed at my back, coming alive.

"Marvel!" she screamed. "Come on!"

The wind was mounting, the spiral widening. Heightening. Twigs and branches came raining down all around us. I ducked a flailing limb of oak. Clove kicked and shrieked. " _MAARRVEELLL._..!"

Marvel appeared in a haze of flying debris. "I'll go the other way," he hollered. "It'll chase me; I'm who they're after."

This seemed logical, since the phenomenon did seem to target him in particular.

Clove disagreed. "No! You can't distract the Capitol, Marvel!" Her voice already was hoarse from its high pitch. "They will chase all of us!"

Marvel frowned. A choking cloud of forest remnants descended on us. I took off, ignoring Clove's wail.

Someone bumped into my back. "Shut up, Clove," said Marvel, easily yanking her to the ground as he came up beside me. "Run, girl!"

She did. She was as fast as either of us.

Her words bounced around in my head as I pumped all my energy into my legs. _You can't distract the Capitol... Capitol... can't distract... Capitol... you can't... Capitol..._

I glanced at the fury behind us. I was a dumb jerk to not have known immediately. They had bided their time, caught us unawares. Hello, Gamemakers.

The spiral had shifted. It was now a 135 degree angle with the point of it heading straight for us, grown to thrice my height and still reaching up. It rippled through the trees, a sinister wave.

Which direction was the lake? Would it stop if we could get there?

Well then again, it probably wouldn't. We'd probably be choked and drowned. This wasn't bees. This had a human mind.

"Roll!" shouted Clove. She dropped to the ground and disappeared.

Marvel and I weren't as smart. We skidded to a stop, startled, only to find ourselves treading air. I bounced against rock and looked down. Air whistled past my face.

We were tumbling down the side of a ravine. The bottom was hazy. I couldn't see Clove.

I shut my eyes and waited for the thud at the end.

It wasn't even bad. There must have been moss. But Clove was there, grabbing my shoulder, slapping me up. "It's still coming!" she shrieked, running to pull Marvel off a sapling he'd apparently crashed into and wrapped around.

It was. Sweeping down the sheer rock wall. Only, the angle was inverting, the ends coming around. Making a circle. We'd be caught in a shrinking, feral eye if we didn't move now.

We moved. Clove bashed a dizzy Marvel in the back wth her fist, jolting him into motion. The three of us ran through the ravine bed, splashing and tripping in its wet swampiness.

We weren't going fast enough. The circle wrapped in closer and closer, wind and leaves and branches, whirling at deadly speed, flying pieces of tree branches diving close to our heads. We were panting heavily, wearing out. Still the cyclone moved in. The air became dry and thick. Suffocating.

I pushed the other two down. We crawled, digging fingers into squishy mud. Maybe it would go over us.

Something hard and heavy hit my leg. Pain happened. Someone screamed; it may have been me.

I could barely drag myself anymore, growing weaker in the heavy air. We were all going to die. How would that look on a tombstone? _Cato, age of death- sixteen years, cause of death- falling leaves._ Ah well, my life was just plain ludicrous at this point. My death may as well be too.

 **Clove POV**

Cato and Marvel were hardly moving anymore, or maybe that was just my foggy senses. I tried to pull them both along, deja vu raining on me along with dry leaves and sharp twigs. This was the bees again, but worse.

Water made people weightless. This mud, however...

Somewhere in this leaf tornado was a camera's eye, watching my reactions. I knew it. The Capitol wouldn't miss this.

 _We're being punished,_ I thought. _We're all being punished for what Marvel told me the other night._

I had thought they might. But I had thought so yesterday. They had waited until we weren't expecting it.

Element of surprise.

Capitol style.

I yanked the boys' shoulders, feeling outraged. _Losers,_ I thought. Losers in the Capitol, targeting me for something I hadn't done; in fact they'd probably appreciated my little freak show the other night- more proof I was crazy. Losers right beside me, depending on me to carry their weight. _Losers._

Silence. Sudden silence.

I lay on my chest, panting into dry, cracked earth.

When had we left the mud?

I rolled over. Sky. Clear blue.

I lifted my head and saw the beast retreating through the forest in a seething wave.

"That's it," I said. "We're out of the forest." The treeline had been the boundary. We wouldn't be followed past it.

Shakily I rose to my knees. We were back in camp. The opposite side we'd left from.

Cato groaned, holding his leg.

Marvel opened his eyes and reached for his hip. "Ow," he said. He stuck his hand down the side of his trousers and, brought it back out. "No blood. Just a bruise."

Cato's leg was bleeding just a little. Marvel said it had been a heavy branch, heading for him, and it had brushed Cato on the way.

"Brushed," said Cato, sarcastic. He touched his leg and winced.

"Lunch time," I said, getting up.

…...

"Fire," said Marvel.

"Hmph?" I uttered, chowing down my third apple.

"Smoke," he clarified, pointing upward.

Cato and I followed the direction of his finger with our eyes. He was right. Black wisps trailed into the blue sky. It looked like a camp fire.

"In the middle of the day?" asked Cato, apparently thinking along the same lines I was.

"Let's go," said Marvel, heading in the direction of the smoke. I could feel an eagerness for action sifting off him.

He had tasted danger as opposed to dread and found it much more bearable. We all had. It felt like escape, in a senseless way.

We all wanted escape.

Cato snapped in two the twig he'd been fidgeting with and joined Marvel. "Come along," he ordered me.

I grimaced at him, because nothing more witty came to mind. But I obeyed. We were all actually talking again, if just a little.

It made me feel better.

We'd only gotten several hundred yards when a second column of smoke flickered to life, only slightly to the right of the first.

"Uh, boys?" I jerked on Cato's sleeve. "What is that?"

We stood in a row, scanning the odd spectacle.

"Did the Capitol start a couple random fires just to be confusing? Maybe begin a forest fire?" asked Marvel. Several days ago Cato and I would have been surprised his brain funtioned well enough to come up with such a verdict. But circumstances had shifted.

"We've already had a fire once before," Cato stated, eyes fixed on the hypnotic feathers of black spiraling into the blue. "Tribute, probably."

"Let's go," Marvel repeated.

"It's probably a trap." I scrambled along behind the eager boys. "They're too close together..."

"Whoever set it can't have more resources than we do," replied Cato. "Just gotta be careful."

Fine then.

Have it your way, since you were nice enough to ask.

It was more of a distance than it first appeared but we ran the entire way in little time. The smoke sources became visible through the trees.

Flaming, smouldering bushes.

Our steps slowed simultaneously. The boys looked confused. Maybe a little bit let down too.

"A set-up. I told you so," I sniped. My body felt grubby, my scalp sandy with grime. I wanted a tumble in the lake. Not this stinking pungent smoke assaulting my nostrils. A headache was unfolding inside my temple.

"Oh ngee ngee _ngee,"_ whined Cato, mocking my petulance with an over-extended lower lip.

Marvel made big clown eyes at me over Cato's shoulder.

I screeched. But it ended in laughter. I had entirely forgotten how funny they could be. In fact I ended up clinging to Cato's arm for support as I wiped near-hysterical tears from my eyes.

Something occurred to me.

 _What's with the mood swings?_ I never had mood swings.

Well, apparently I did. I giggled again.

…...

 _You make me smile._

 _ **~Uncle Kracker**_

… _ **...**_


	18. Part 18

**Disclaimer: No. No. I will not say it. Let me hang on to my petty illusions... FINE. They all belong to Suzanne Collins, Lionsgate, and the rest of that lucky bunch that does not include me.**

… **...**

 **Part 18**

 _When you feel my heat, look into my eyes_

 _that's where my demons hide..._

 _Don't get too close, it's dark inside_

 _that's where my demons hide..._

 _ **~the Imagine Dragons**_

 **Cato POV**

Marvel and I smirked at each other as Clove leaned into me, snickering helplessly. Just feeling her small weight against me made me a little high. After all the tension, the lack of communication these last few days, touching her felt like coming home.

She looked up at us, her face getting more composed but her eyes still sparkling with a happy sort of wetness.

We were both too busy grinning like goofs to continue mocking her.

She took a breath. "We should find whoever set the fires," she said, somewhat reluctantly, running slim fingertips under her eyes to wipe away any dampness, and pushing back stray hair.

Right. Hunger Games. Fight for survival. Enemies abounding. Danger on all sides. Must get back on track.

"Wha-" But I was drowned out.

 _BOOM._

The ground shook. Marvel dropped to one knee, probably more out of surprise than force. Clove swayed and grabbed a young tree with one hand and my arm with the other. I rocked a bit in my boots but kept a firm hold around her shoulders.

We looked at each other, silently, all thinking too hard to speak up. No cannon was that loud, that penetrative. Marvel regained his footing.

Clove pulled my arm. "What was that?" she whispered. I looked down to see her staring up at me with fear in her eyes and realized it was the first time I'd ever seen her truly terrified.

 _Why only now?_ I wondered, pulling her back against me.

Marvel broke the sudden hush. "I think our supplies just got totalled."

We exchanged glances and started running by mutual unspoken consent.

 _Boom._

This one was quite a bit smaller but halted us in our tracks anyway, if only momentarily.

 _Boom._ And again. We kept our pace... or more more accurately, we kept our headlong, flat out dash.

 _Boom._

We picked up speed- who knew that was even still possible- crashing through the trees, tension piling to extreme heights with each yard that was covered. I left the other two behind and burst into the clearing.

Marvel couldn't have been more correct.

Everything was totalled.

Blown to smithereens.

Dashed to bits.

I absorbed the sight of our means of survival ruined, laying in waste, and felt a dense red cloud of rage settling over me. Vaguely I was aware of Clove and Marvel coming up to stand beside me. Three Dude running over breathless... Had he been following us?

My skull wanted to explode. I bellowed every profanity I'd ever heard, along with some I hadn't. A surreal, unexplainable kind of fury blanketed, possessed, me- surreal, yet so familiar. This felt exactly how my father used to look those times when he would rage about the house throwing things, looking for someone to hurt.

This was him coming out in my blood. His genes were the ones that made me lose it out of the blue... because that's how he did it. I groaned and shut up.

"Did they all blow?" asked Marvel, meaning the land mines.

Three Dude tossed a handful of rocks into what used to be our food and ammo. Nothing happened; nothing exploded. "Looks so," he said, cautiously.

We wandered into the jumble of burnt unrecognizables and ash. Not one apple remained, not one strip of jerky. I could feel my father rising in me again.

" _This is your fault you bastard!"_ I roared at Three.

His eyes widened and he moved to flee but it was too late.

I snapped his neck.

The cannon sounded.

I stood in the rubble, lost and angry and pathetic. The child whose life my hands had just ended lying limp at my feet.

Clove and Marvel took my arms and pulled me away, to the lake, leaving the boy for pick-up by Hovercraft.

Capitol express, dependable as sunrise.

I pushed them away eventually. "We have to find who did this."

"Whoever set that off is long dead." Clove latched onto my wrist.

"Nobody could survive that," Marvel agreed.

"Quit going with everything she says!" I snapped at him. They looked at me in silence, surprised. I ignored them and glared fixedly at a tree in the distance.

…...

But they were wrong. Only the guys from Ten and Three, both of whom I'd personally ended, showed their faces in the sky that night. Nobody had died in the explosion.

We set out to find the culprit. At this point we all just wanted the other players dead. The sooner this was over, the better.

Of course at least two of us would have to die eventually also, but we just wouldn't deal with that til we had to. All I knew was that it wouldn't be me killing Clove. I'd sooner let her finish me.

…?

Had I just thought that?

No. No I hadn't.

…...

 **Clove POV**

"Marvel," I said, "I've been thinking..."

"Yeah," he replied, sitting up and stretching. It was morning. We hadn't found anybody to kill the night before, and we hadn't gotten much sleep, what with Cato's flaming rage. Nor had we returned to the Cornucopia. Nothing was left there. No more protection there than anywhere else. Cato was now slouched against a tree wearily- it had been his turn to keep watch and he had worn himself out stomping up and down.

"You know, when the bees attacked," I said thoughtfully, and paused.

"Yeah.

"What made them leave? I keep remembering something, the swarm was following something away across the lake."

"Yeah."

"Shut up, Marvel," I said, annoyed with the single syllable inserts. "What were they following?"

"Mm." He got up and walked to Cato's backpack. "Anything in here? I only have two apples and a little dried beef left."

He wouldn't need much more than those few things but nobody knew that. We weren't seers.

"Marvel!" I snapped.

"Fine. After I pushed you two helpless twerps in the lake, I grabbed a loose branch and dove in. I stuck it up through the surface and swam underwater to lead the bees away. They were easily confused." He frowned at me, apparently not thrilled to have his good deed unearthed. Or something.

"Then they flew back into the woods?" I prompted.

"Yeah," he said gloomily, phasing back into clamshell mode. I sighed.

Cato flopped out on the ground. It appeared we were going nowhere until he'd had some proper sleep. So I told Marvel to stay with him while I went hunting for breakfast. We had to save the food in our packs for emergencies.

As I slipped stealthily between trees, I considered Cato's behavior last night. Such outbursts were hard for me to understand. Explosive anger always accomplished a flat nothing and I believed in conserving my energy toward a particular end rather than wasting it like that... he was scary in that mood. The whole thing puzzled me faintly.

The rabbit I returned with was fat. It reminded me of the one that Meadowlark kid had swiped for us much earlier in the Games. I skinned it. Marvel built a fire. It would be a welcome relief from squirrels.

Cato just snored. I let him sleep, figuring he needed his rest... And I was a little afraid of his possible reaction to being disturbed.

"I'm going to hunt." Marvel rose, grabbing his spear and backpack. "Check the trap I set yesterday. You stay."

I eyed him. He'd been growing steadily gloomier througout the morning. His eyes were unfocusing. He moved like a sleepwalker. I was surprised to hear him speak at all.

Yesterday had nearly snapped him back to normal but now, here, there was nothing to distract him. Nothing to keep his mind from remembering the truth. She was gone... Oh yikes. I shouldn't have brought up the bees...

I couldn't trust his reflexes. Something bad would happen if he went wandering now.

"No," I said.

He looked at me, focusing for a split second. He began walking past me.

I grabbed his leg. "Don't leave me here. I don't want to be alone." Odd... That I, the loner, should be begging for a mentally unstable guy's company.

But I had my reasons.

"You're not alone," he said, and he disappeared into the woods. I'd never expected the goof to move so fast.

I looked at Cato. I wasn't alone. I wasn't crazy. For the first time ever, I knew this.

But Marvel was.

Alone. Disoriented.

Because of his loss.

"Crazy," I muttered. "He's crazy."

I tossed my jacket over the leftover rabbit, to keep flies away until Cato woke and was hungry. I crawled next to Cato and put a hand on his tousled blonde hair. How was it still soft? Mine felt gritty and horrid.

Gently I stroked his head, his stubbly chin, admiring how his lashes curved close to his face.

Then I stood and paced.

…...

 _I bet my life on you_

 _ **~the Imagine Dragons**_

… _ **...**_

 **A/N: Your feedback is appreciated. (Hint...) =)**


	19. Part 19

**A/N: First, I'm aware some of you will hate this chapter. Please just understand that at this point I couldn't really forsake the plot... it's too far gone.**

 **To the Guest who reviewed- thank you. I'm with you; I like them better alive too. But as I said, changing the plot now would throw everything off, so I apologize.**

 **And we commence.**

 **Part 19**

 _Don't tell me that I'm wrong_

 _I've walked that road before_

 _and left you on your own..._

 _ **~the Imagine Dragons**_

 **Clove POV**

I decided it had been closer to midday than morning when Marvel and I ate breakfast, for the sun was heading downward now. It seemed he'd been gone a long time but maybe it was just half an hour.

No, at least an hour.

Restless, I kept stalking around and around, circling the dead ashes of our earlier fire. My legs were finally getting used to all the exercise, the hiking we'd done. They weren't even a little bit tired yet.

My mind wasn't either. Shouldn't Marvel be back soon? What if he never came back? Would he get lost? Should I go after him? Should I wait? What of Cato? He still slept. Could I safely leave him alone for a bit?

Well, no to the last. These were the Games after all... why did I have to keep reminding myself? Safe was not an option. But which was more risky? Leaving Cato alone or leaving Marvel to his own devices?

This was exhausting after all. Who knew caring about people other than yourself was so wearing? No wonder I'd avoided it all my life.

I put my ear to the ground. Nothing. Too much bird chatter. Really, what had I expected?

I stood. Enough. My feet began to move, following the direction Marvel had taken earlier. Odds were, nobody was close enough to discover Cato in the time it would take to find the other boy and return.

Where had he gone after I could no longer see him? What was that about a trap? Right, we'd passed it while we were hunting last night. He'd directed us around it. We'd taken a wide loop because the night was dense and nobody wished to be caught in a net in the dark. Marvel had said it would be safer to check it in the morning.

I was moving along what I thought was the correct path when somebody screamed. It wasn't the scream of a half-grown man, however, but of a small child.

I ran toward it anyway, keeping to the bushes for camouflage. Someone streaked by a small distance ahead. I paused.

That was the girl on fire.

Bewildered and filled with expanding dread, I crept on hands and knees until I reached the place where the other girl came to a halt. Underbrush would shield me from her eyes; I was only several yards away.

But she wasn't looking at me.

 _The trap,_ I thought, horrified. A child was bound in its ropes, whimpering. Blood streamed, from where a spear was plunged into her stomach, onto the ground.

Marvel. He stood a hundred feet from the trap, arm still raised. His eyes seemed rather glazed. In a blink, he dropped. An arrow to the throat. I looked at Katniss. Her arm was up too, holding a bow. Her eyes weren't glazed, but hateful.

I put my forehead on the dirt, because I was too late to help and too chicken to watch.

I heard the boom and turned slowly, crawling back to Cato, in a state of weird and horrible numbness. It was slow, it was painful, and it took a long time. As it turned out, he found me.

 **Cato POV**

I squinted into golden sunlight; the mellow beams of afternoon, not the crisp yellow of morning. In a hurry, I sat up. What the...?

I did the sensible thing. I looked around.

Clove was gone. Marvel was gone. Clove's backpack was still here but Marvel's wasn't. Ashes of an earlier fire shifted in a nearly imperceptable breeze.

Well this was a first.

Which way had they gone?

I wandered into the forest, zigzagging back and forth, straining to see, to catch a glimpse, of either one. Should I call or would that just alert other tributes? Had they gone themselves or were they kidnapped? Did anybody kidnap in the Hunger Games? I couldn't remember that being a thing. Tributes killed tributes on the spot, nobody dragged anybody off for captivity or torture.

Well then, maybe they'd just gotten tired of me and left. That was disturbing. I preferred to think they'd just gone hunting, ignoring the fact that leaving me asleep and vulnerable was hardly charitable, given the circumstances...

A rustle. More rustling. Something landed on my boot, and when I looked down I saw it was a hand.

Clove's hand. Her head didn't lift. She just kept crawling, inching past my foot.

I reached down, flipped her over, and scooped her up. "Clove? Are you okay?" I checked for blood, for scratches, bruises, punctures, lumps. Nothing save lots of scrapes on her hands, some bloody but none bad enough to force her to the ground.

She stared at me, held up her hands and inspected them, looked back at me, and buried her face in my shoulder. "She killed him."

I went cold, sudden ice coursing through my veins. "Who killed him?"

"Katniss." She choked, let loose a ragged, heavy breath.

The girl on fire strikes again. I gathered the shaking Clove close and strode back towards where she'd left her backpack. _Odd,_ I thought, _the way she's wiping out our pack single-handedly. She sicced the bees on us,_ (that was the conclusion we'd come to, anyway) _killed Glimmer and Four. Now she's taken Marvel._

I could almost hear that charming, confident voice saying, "Who's up next? Ladies first..."

No way. I held Clove tighter, probably almost suffocating her, but she didn't complain.

 _Nobody's taking my girl._

… **...**

I didn't look at the sky when the anthem sounded that night. Why bother? I didn't need the knife in my chest to be twisted yet too.

Clove, however, stared upward steadily, and as all went dark again and the last notes faded, she screamed.

It wasn't the scream of a girl, but of a wildcat.

I looked at her in alarm but the night was dark. Her face was veiled in blank blackness. Tentatively, I reached to pull her closer, but she batted my hand away and when I persisted, she gave me a viscious shove and walked to her pack.

I realized that she had snapped. She had lost too much. The girl with nothing to lose had found friendship, of a sort; laughter, anger, tears, and camaraderie- actual feelings; found them and then had them all swiped from under her nose in a matter of days.

The Games had given, and the Games had taken away. Cursed be the name of the Treaty.

She lifted her backpack and turned to face me. I looked at her, at what I could see of her, the outline of a lithe little thing, hard and soft and agile in the weak moonlight.

"I'm leaving," she said stonily. "Goodbye, Cato."

I had no reply for that. It was a bombshell, but somehow an expected one.

She moved to go. I grabbed her arm. "Why?" I demanded.

"We can't stay together. We can't protect each other anymore. One of us has to die." Her voice was flat, a monotone. As if she was making a shopping list rather than a death sentence.

Again I had no reply. What is there to say against the truth?

Her hand landed on my chest one moment and then she was gone, immersed in the black void of the Arena. She was well and thoroughly gone.

Goodbye, Clove.

… **...**

I was unused to the silence. It hurt. It hurt my ears and it hurt my heart. Re-word: it hurt in the spot where my heart used to beat but was no more.

The logical part of my mind suggested I go hunting, find something to focus on. But I had no energy left. I couldn't even be bothered to get up that next morning. It was noon when hunger finally drove me to rise.

I rolled angrily from under my bush, quite thoroughly pissed that no one had found and killed me in the night, angrily finished off the fruit and dried meat in my backpack, and angrily marched into the woods without checking where I was headed. Any random direction would do.

I hunted for something to hurt, something to kill, something to pay for the pain. There was nothing. No tributes, no animals, no birds. No freaking bugs.

Life was gone from the arena. With Clove- and with my heart- everything had disappeared.

I was angry. Angry at the unfairness. The Games. The Gamemakers. The Capitol and its blood-happy painted throngs. The President. I was angry at Clove, not for leaving, but for taking away with her every last mouse and daddy-long-legs, because I wanted something to torture.

I was turning steadily into my father and I found I couldn't care less.

… **...**

 _Will the faithful be rewarded_

 _when we come to the end_

 _will I miss the final warning_

 _from the lie that I have lived?_

 _Is there anybody calling?_

 _I can see the soul within_

 _and I am not worthy_

 _I am not worthy of this_

 _ **~Breaking Benjamin**_

… **...**

 **A/N: You can hate me; I'll understand. After all, I will never forgive J.K. Rowling for killing Fred, so I'll know where you're coming from.**

 **Stick with me please; the ending _will_ be happy. And you can check out my other story to see what happened to Marvel, if you like. Stay tuned.**

 **Toodles,**

 **Crazy**


	20. Part 20

**A/N: Hello! Thanks to my thoughtful reviewers; you make me sing. (Actually, I might even mean that literally.)**

 **Disclaimer: All hail Suzy. Suzy owns the world. This world here anyway.**

 **Part 20**

 **Clove POV**

 _It's been a long day without you, my friend_

 _ **~Charlie Pugh**_

I didn't sleep the night after Marvel died. I didn't even try. There were things I would see, if I closed my eyes, that I just could not deal with.

So I wandered.

The forest was very still. Waiting. I was the only thing that moved- until something white fluttered by and landed on a branch just over my head.

I swept out a knife and threw it, straight and strong. The ball of white fell with a squawk to my feet.

Slowly I crouched down to look at it. An owl. A young one, still fluffy. Its face was outlined in two perfect black arches. It looked pure, unspoiled. Out of place here in this deadly Arena.

Except for the dark stain where my knife had driven into its chest.

I reached out slowly, stroked the perfect smooth little head. So soft.

The regret that hit me was overpowering. I snatched back my hand as if bitten and buried my face in my knees and wept. Wept for the innocent baby owl because I could not for my friend.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and it was for both of them.

… **...**

There was something pressing my cheek in an uncomfortable way.

I opened my eyes and felt the heavy weariness everywhere. The side of my neck hurt like crazy when I tried to turn my head.

I was lying sprawled in a somewhat twisted position, left arm propped up against a tree trunk and head resting in a bush.

A bush.

Carefully, I sat up. The last thing I remembered was watching the sunrise after an eternal restless night. After that, I guessed I must have collapsed where I stood, of exhaustion. Probably more the emotional and mental kind than the physical.

I winced, screeched. My left arm was dead, numb from being extended up against the tree. Now blood came rushing back in like needles in attack mode as I brought it down, and the sensation was exactly as if my limb was exploding.

Laying the arm gently on the ground beside me felt like an electrocution. I sat hunched over, blinking down tears of sheer agony until the stinging subsided.

Finally I got up, and I did it stiffly. My neck screamed in pain. Lying sideways in a bush had been a dreadful move. _On the fragile chance I ever get back home, may I be struck dead if the desire to sleep outside so much as even crosses my mind once._ I rotated my neck quickly, assessing the damage, then began kneading, pressing, and scraping at the sore spot with both hands.

That should resolve the problem in several hours. I needed food now.

I ate one apple, out of my pack.

My stomach complained, wanting more. But I had to save what I had left, because there was no way I was going hunting at this point. I could not cause more death. It was unthinkable. Sometimes when I shut my eyes, all I could see was blood, and I was so weary of it, I felt nauseous.

"You shut up," I snapped at my unhappy stomach. It didn't, but I ignored it.

I walked, because I could not sit still, but there was nothing for me to do, nowhere to go. I was lost.

Alone.

And I couldn't really say that that was a bad thing. Being alone felt so empty, yes, but not being alone was so... tiring.

There was a haze wrapped around me and I couldn't fight through it. Everything I saw and felt seemed warped, somehow; heavy, twisted.

Except the flashbacks.

The clarity of the flashbacks and the dullness of reality made me slightly dizzy, or maybe it was just the lack of food I had eaten in the last twenty-four hours. I began grabbing at trees to keep from tripping, and eventually I leaned against one and slid down to the ground. I put my head back against its strangely solid trunk and sat there, doing what hurt the most.

Remembering.

… **...**

My stomach finally prevailed. I opened my pack again and pulled out a strip of jerky. I stuck the end into my mouth and just tasted it for a while. Then I bit off a piece, chewing slowly.

Savoring the little things. My surefire technique to keep from me losing my mind when things just got too bad to take.

I was a bit unsure that it wasn't too late for that though. My mind felt pretty spaced-out.

Anyway, maybe if I ate slowly, I could trick myself into believing I'd had enough and wouldn't be hungry for more, which I simply could not spare.

So I shut my eyes and sat there, pretending my entire world revolved around that piece of jerky and nothing else mattered. And then, suddenly, I remembered something.

Someone. I had been remembering all day but this one had slipped my mind entirely.

The kid from Nine.

He had been the first human being I had ever killed, and somehow, he was still the only. How had I gotten this far in the Games of Death, unharmed, with only one kill?

I kept my eyes closed, tasted the jerky, and pulled up a mental picture of him. Curly hair. Desperate face. Weak-looking thing. Maybe I had done him a favor. Maybe not. But as I replayed his death in my head, I knew I hadn't done myself any.

And the reason I hadn't pulled off any more mentally damaging stunts like that one was because my boys had done the killing for me. I owed them.

Cato and Marvel, I realized, had become my entire world. I could survive on my own, but I didn't want to have to. And they had made sure I didn't... until yesterday.

I missed them, visciously.

They meant more to me than anyone ever had before and I had deserted them both. I would never see either of them again, never shout at them, never laugh with them, or call them idiots.

And it was my fault.

I would never get to touch anyone again. I would die alone.

And it was my fault.

Wasn't it?

I rose and went to the creek. It was only several hundred yards away. A little further down it widened into a pool. I followed it there and stripped down to bare skin. Then I jumped in.

Perching on my toes in a crouch, I did something I hadn't realized I would miss so strongly. I took a bath.

With my hands, I rubbed the accumulated dust and grime from my skin and was surprised at how pale I was when it was gone. It felt so good. I dove underwater and scrubbed my gritty scalp. Then, for a while, I just sat rocking in the gentle, lulling ripples, putting my fingers into the little bitty waterfall and letting it wash, swift and happy, over my fingers.

I would die alone, but I would not die dirty.

Finally I climbed out and knelt beside the pool, looking down at my dripping, bare self in the water. "I guess it's down to us," I said.

We looked at each other and I reached out to flick my nose in the water. "Gods," I said to my reflection, "our life is dreadful, isn't it?"

… **...**

At some point that afternoon, I realized I was in love with Cato. I was examining a dead leaf in my hand (my perception of detail became much more accute when I was tired) and thinking about a cynical comment he had made long ago, when I was about thirteen, and then there it was. It slipped in gently and was established before I had a chance to banish it. It made me slightly sick, wildly happy, stupidly numb, and oddly cold.

The numbness prevailed and I spent the rest of the day wandering, thinking, remembering. It was a new kind of remembering, recalling those violently blue eyes, those strong hands, that sarcastic voice, that shy grin, that thoughtful touch.

Cato.

It was too ironic. _Now_ I wanted him. Now, when I had left him, and couldn't go back. Now, when it was too late.

The numbness fell away into pain and I shivered like a cold puppy.

Then that went away and I tried not to think about him. I tried not to think about anything. I went hunting, and I missed my mark every time.

On purpose... mostly.

… **...**

I was lying on my back in a marginally peaceful stupor, staring at the deepening sky and its faint stars slowly growing stronger, when a Gamemaker's voice came plainly across the air.

I listened drowsily. Now what did they want? _Attention... Rule change... Two tributes... allowed to win... same district..._ I sat up in alarm.

Rule change? Two tributes? What was this?

And when I finally pieced it together I was spinning. Now what? Now what? Now-what-now-what-now-what?

I was dizzy. I didn't go looking for Cato. I just lay there, thinking.

Could I even do this? Could I? Could I, could I, could I?

I curled up in denial, because I wasn't sure I was going to sacrifice resignation for more fear. I wasn't sure I wanted to. I was tired.

I slept restlessly and finally got up before sunrise. Enough is enough. I stood still as I chowed down on my very last apple. But as soon as I finished it, I was off. Running, stumbling, scrambling, beating my way through bushes.

And then I heard my name and he was coming towards me. I screamed something, I had no idea what, and the split second before I threw myself at him entirely, my eyes met his.

So blue.

I was in love and I knew it and I had to touch him. Now. And then, I would never, never, never let go again.

… **...**

 _Are you with me after all?..._

 _Stay with me, don't let me go,_

 _because there's nothing left at all_

 _stay with me, don't let me go_

 _ **~Breaking Benjamin**_

… _ **...**_

 **A/N: How's that? Let me know, or don't. Up to you. Next chapter we will finally switch back to Cato's POV again... stay tuned.**

 **Toodles,**

 **Crazy.**


	21. Part 21

**A/N: I didn't have internet the last few days, hence the late update. My continual appreciation to my readers and reviewers. Lovely lovely people, you are.**

 **Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins dreamed up the Games universe. I did not. Sometimes I question if I am capable of even writing about the normal universe, much less inventing a new one...**

 **Part 21**

 _The human heart is a scary part_

 _in fact_

 _cause I could break you and you could break_

 _me back_

 _ **~Steve Moakler**_

 **Cato POV**

I looked for Clove all that night.

Typical to her, of course, she didn't let herself be found until she was ready. Then she came to me.

Not that I minded.

She came barrelling toward me screaming my name and when I saw her face I knew that her guard was down further than she'd ever let it with me before. She looked... soft. Just a bit, in her eyes.

Then her small tough body slammed into mine and my mental processes got slow and tangled. I wrapped hungry arms around her. She was so fragile, after all. Like a kitten- complete with claws. I held her off the ground against me and she burrowed into my neck. I stroked her tangly hair, her curving back, her slender arms. Even her legs.

Every inch, so precious to me.

She moved back suddenly and kissed my jaw hard, then wrapped her arms fiercely around my neck and cuddled in again.

I was floored. Floored.

In that one day and two nights, where had her reserve gone?

Her small hands slipped down my back and she set her feet on the ground. She tugged my arm. She looked up at me.

"I'm hungry," she said.

Speaking of, she did look pale. Shaky, too.

"You alright?" I asked worriedly, putting a hand at her back as she swayed a little.

"I'm fine..." she replied slowly. " I didn't hunt..."

"What did you _eat_ yesterday?" I demanded.

"Two apples and a strip of jerky."

"Anything today?"

"An apple. They're all gone now though." She looked troubled.

"I'm awed you're still standing. C'mere."

"Why?" she asked, though her hand gripped my sleeve.

I scooped her up and she perched in my arms, resting against my shoulder. "Better?"

"You expect that to work? Sweeping a girl off her feet..." she murmured, walking her fingertips through my hair.

I swallowed, because I remembered the first time she'd said that- and because she just had a weird effect on me. Wordless, I nuzzled her face with my chin and started walking.

"Scratchy," she said, poking at my jaw. "Where are we going, Cato?"

My name sounded way too good in her voice. "Well my sponsors did send a razor, but I'm trying for the mountain man look," I told her cheerfully. "And we're gonna get you breakfast."

She frowned, trying to decide if I was kidding about the razor. "I had breakfast. An apple."

"Aha ha. Filling."

"Shut up."

We found a relatively secluded spot for her to sit in while I went for food. I killed a grooseling and she built a little fire. We had breakfast. Or in Clove's case, breakfast again.

"Why didn't you hunt yesterday?" I asked, remembering her earlier comment.

"Well, I did," she remarked, as if it had just occurred to her. "But I didn't get anything."

"Hm?" With anyone else, her answer would have worked. Unsuccessful hunting does occur. But Clove... she never missed what she decided to hit and she was very clever at finding life in a silent forest. I raised a brow.

"I'm tired," she said softly, looking down at her crossed legs, "of killing things."

"It's okay," I handed over her water bottle. "I'll do it."

She peeked a quick look up as she drank. "Thanks."

"Yeah." Then I added something I'd never told anyone before... "I'll take care of you."

Her eyes shone suspiciously. "I know."

I just wanted to hold her again, all the time, really, but I could sense the reckless abandon of earlier retreating behind the soul of a girl who still tried, however unconciously, to believe she had nothing to lose. So I let her sit alone on her patch of ground, and I sat alone on mine.

Out of the blue, I wondered what my mother was doing. Though I had a pretty good idea. She'd be worried sick, haggard, a grey little shadow slipping around the edges of her husband's rages. Praying her baby would come home.

For the first time in a while, I actually believed her prayers would be answered.

"I'm tired," said Clove, and curled up on the ground beside her water bottle.

"Hold up." I came around the ashes of our fire and sat down beside her. "I'll be your pillow."

She glanced up, then obediantly laid her head in my lap. I settled my left hand gently on her side and she didn't protest, but draped her own left hand over my knee. On her wrist, my bracelet gleamed dully in the early sunlight.

It was a little tarnished, a little scratched. It had seen a lot.

I smiled and stroked her hair, listening to my girl's even breathing.

… **...**

Warm. Very warm and strangely relaxed.

I opened my eyes, wondering at the odd sensation, and saw dark eyelashes. This was somewhat uncommon, so I raised my head to examine the situation and saw that I was lying on the ground at a right angle to Clove, and my head had been on her shoulder.

She looked at me, not moving her own head. "Hi."

"How long was I asleep?" I demanded, annoyed at myself.

"Couple hours, probably. I just woke up an hour ago myself." Her gaze drifted to the leaves overhead.

"How'd I get down here?" I inquired, perplexed.

"I pushed you over because you looked uncomfotable." She rose to a sitting position, one knee pulled up slightly and the other leg flat on the ground. "You were out cold."

"Huh." Side-effects of staying up all night. I scrubbed my face with my hands and got up to stretch.

She watched. Then she said, "I'm hungry again," in a rather apologetic tone.

I checked the sun. Must be about noon. "Okay," I said, "but you better come along." I didn't like going off without her. Anything could happen.

She frowned and got up, stretching a bit too, making me think again how much she was like a little kitten. "We need to fill the water bottles," she muttered, as if thinking out loud, picking up both of them. "Yours," she added more clearly, "is empty."

We were a fair distance from the creek. She carried the bottles and I looked for game as we walked. I didn't get anything but we did find small wooden container. Whose, I couldn't tell, but it held a good supply of jerky, and some dried fruit.

"Somebody has generous sponsors," I remarked.

"Better save that," said Clove.

"Yeah." I glanced around, seeing large prints in the soft ground. Then, _rustle, rustle..._ "Get down!" I ordered under my breath.

"Why?" she asked quietly, getting under a bush. I crawled after her, listening as the footsteps got closer. They were a large person's movements, I could hear they bore weight.

Clove was stone still.

Then feet came into view and I looked up and was glad I had gotten Clove under the cover of brambles. The very big boy from District Eleven stood solidly on his own earlier footprints, looking around.

There was a rather long silence. Then he shifted and moved away. I listened until he could no longer be heard.

Clove wiggled abruptly and crawled out into the clearing. She looked at me, puzzled. "I thought for sure you were going to jump him."

Was that relief in her voice? I got up, removing several tenacious thorns from my jacket. "I guess I should have."

"Well I didn't really wanna watch that." She looked down at the bottles clutched in her whitened fists.

I handed her the container. "Give me those. The creek is just down here."

She followed me over the bank and stuck her fingers in the water, letting its current run gently over them. "It's gone down some since yesterday," she said.

I filled the bottles. "I guess we should find lunch."

"There's less wildlife around," she stated. "At the beginning there was plenty. It's like it's diminishing. Have you noticed?'

Was it in my head or was she talking more than usual? Maybe I'd just never listened before.

"I noticed." It was the Gamemakers at it again, turning up the temperature to humidity during the day, dropping it to near frigidity at night, lessening the food supply, slowly draining the creek. Maybe it had even been they who blew up our stockpile at the Cornucopia.

If they couldn't make us kill one another fast enough, they'd just eventually eliminate us by heatstroke, thirst, starvation, or freezing. They were so annoying.

I wondered what kind of people the Gamemakers actually were, if they truly enjoyed watching us be gruesomely decapitated one after the next. Or if they were just doing their jobs with mechanical and rather scary precision. But even so, what kind of people must they be?

Who would have such a thing at their fingertips, who would _watch_ that voluntarily ?

In District Two the people watched; you could not pull them away; something compelled them to stay, to see every awful detail. But it was because they had friends in the Arena, or family, or worst case scenario, it was somebody's soulmate on that screen. And people watched, as if under a spell, while someone close to them slaughtered or was slaughtered. Because that person _was_ close to them, and they must see how he or she was doing.

It was as if they wouldn't be hurt as easily, if you were watching, praying.

That logic rarely worked. But the people practiced it anyway, silent and terrified in spite of themselves, before the awful screens.

… **...**

 **Clove POV**

Darkness came, along with the anthem, and there were no faces in the sky. I was thankful- I was oddly happy that the boy from Eleven didn't show his dark, strong face up there. Together we could most likely have killed him, and home would have been closer, but that was starting to seem surreal anyway.

We would probably never get out of here.

In the meantime, the boy deserved some more time alive, several more minutes to feel sunshine, to run, to taste whatever he could find to eat.

Marvel should have had that- those few more minutes, days, years, even- to laugh and to make his ridiculous jokes, to tease, to protect, to be free and unafraid. To feel his own heart pounding and know he was alive.

But someone had taken that basic right from him, and that one thing, once taken, can never be returned. I was wildly angry.

Katniss Everdeen was going to pay.

I helped Cato make a pile of our things under a particularly dense sheet of brambles. We crawled in next to them and I rolled up against him, trying to avoid the scratchy twigs that were everywhere. He wrapped his arms around me and I put my head on his chest.

Would we do this again sometime, without the thorns? Back in District Two? Safe?

Was there a chance? Maybe. The famous odds were about fifty-fifty now. But if there was half a chance of winning, that only meant there was half a chance of dying here and never making it out.

 _Where does life go? When it's no longer in the person who contained it?_

 _Life isn't just breath, it is laughter and anger and work and happiness and false hopes and real love. Life is... something. And a thing cannot be destroyed and leave no trace. Wood leaves ash when it is burned. Ash leaves behind a pungent smell when it is swept away. Likewise a body leaves life behind. When the body is taken away, where is the life? Does it always stay where it was separated from the person who gave it face? Is it haunted by what happened there a minute ago, a year ago, a century ago? Does it spiral into the sky? Find others of its kind? Answer to the name it had as a human being? Continue to have the feelings it used to have?_

 _Does it have the same face? Is it still who it was only lacking the body, or does the identity die with the human and then does it start over, find a new body, a being in need of a soul?_

I was not too certain I wanted to find the answer through experience.

Cato nuzzled his chin in the crook of my neck and I resolved one thing:

 _We will survive._

… **...**

 **A/N: This one is extra long. I just forgot to stop writing.**


	22. Part 22

**Disclaimer: Yeah, no. Not mine.**

 **Part 22**

 **Clove POV**

Brambles, sunlight.

Sunlight, brambles.

Disoriented, I stared about. I didn't get very far with that, due to the restricted space. Someone stabbed me in the back.

"Ow, sucker!" I thrashed, thinking, _Katniss._ But it was just a random thorn. Help us all. And my thrashing amounted to mere pathetic wiggling, because of the arms around me.

Arms?

Brambles. Sunlight. …Cato.

I jerked about to survey this recent discovery. He was watching me through half-shut, amused eyes. _So blue..._

 _Get a grip._ I scowled vaguely at him but could not summon enough grip to sit up and scoot away. Not that the bushes would have permitted it, at any rate.

"Bad dreams?" he inquired, making eyes of sarcasm at me.

Slightly dazed by the purity of their blue, I looked away and sulked.

"Breakfast, then?" he suggested genially, pushing up on an elbow to survey the surroundings. The woods were very quiet, save some twittering in the branches overhead which hopefully originated from birds rather than deranged spies... or something. He lifted a sheet of brambles, cursing as his face got scratched, and pushed me out from our little bush-house, following with himself.

I laughed when he pricked his palm too.

He chose to ignore this unkind guesture on my part in favor of dragging out our packs. I took mine and tossed it over my shoulder, sliding an arm through its strap. Only after retrieving several choice knives, of course. He did the same, minus the knives; instead pulling his spear out from its bushy hideout.

I found that now that I was no longer shaking from hunger and disoriented with grief and horror, hunting didn't sound so dread-worthy. The knives felt right in my hands again.

Cato no doubt noticed but did not comment. We sauntered through the trees, keeping a sharp watch out for any homocidal rival tributes.

Tribs, as Glimmer would have said.

I'd never wasted much thought on Glimmer; I'd never wasted brain energy on anybody that shallow. But now I wondered, fleetingly, about her life and who she left behind... if anyone missed her in One.

Apparently the Games had stripped away my ability to block deep thoughts. Used to be, I could at least shove that kind of stuff into my subconcious without even knowing it. Now, I had plenty of time to consider things from every aspect. Too much.

I was becoming almost reasonable.

Then I saw a movement and fired the blade in my left hand and we had squirrel for breakfast.

Afterwards we walked the woods again, calculating that if we didn't go after some action, the Gamemakers would come after us. Losers. But you can't fight back when the losers have such a heavy upper hand.

We were hiking downstream when I suddenly saw a spot I recognized. "Hey, that pool was deeper when I took a bath in it."

"You did what?" asked Cato, right eyebrow lifting quizzically.

"What?" I didn't understand his surprise at all, or the weird look he was giving me. He did know what a bath was, right?

"In the daytime?" he asked.

I shot him a narrow look. "Cato. It's cold at night."

"Well, yeah, but good grief, Clove." He took my arm and pulled me over against a tree, as if there were people who might see us. I frowned at him. He ignored me. "Without clothes?" he demanded, to which I gave him a _what do you think?_ look.

"Did you not think of all the _cameras?"_ he spouted, seeming deeply annoyed.

"I- oh!" I gaped. "Oh. My. Gods. I forgot. I forgot." Blushing is not a thing I do, but I was kinda doing it now anyway.

I put my hands over my face. "Maybe they were watching Katniss or somebody right then," I whispered, looking at Cato sheepishly over my fingertips. Fragile hope in small chances.

He looked somewhat amused now. "Clove," he said. "You're so crazy."

What if my entire District had seen that? _I don't want to go home. I want to die. Kill me now._

I laughed suddenly. "I am crazy. I completely forgot. How could I? Oh..." I shouted with glee, clinging to the tree and to Cato.

He snorted. "Indecent wench." Then he snickered too.

I wiped my wet eyes and looked at him standing almost against me, partially concerned, partially exasperated, partially amused.

I loved him.

Quickly I ducked out under his arm and walked away. He followed. We continued our half-hearted hunt for tributes. It wasn't the best distraction, but it more or less restrained me from wrapping my arms and legs around him and demanding he kiss me now.

It would work for the time being anyway. Maybe.

 **Cato POV**

Well, that was the end of that discussion. I watched the little lioness march along in front of me, and felt scrambled. Everything was so odd with her. And I just wanted to hold her. Kiss her too, if I allowed myself to go there, but that was over the top. She'd never let me and I wouldn't make her.

The minutes drifted by toward noon and I observed her expression hardening, her brows lowering, her back straightened. She was angry, I was pretty sure.

What had I done now?

Despite the scarcity of game, we had three squirrels and two rabbits dead by early evening and she'd killed each of them. Eyeing her warily, I started a small fire, despite the daylight, figuring that at this point I could take on anyone who'd be attracted by the smoke.

She was butchering one of the hapless bunnies. Suddenly she looked up. "Cato," she snapped.

"Ah, what?" This should be interesting.

She paused, looking ashamed and frustrated. "Nothing."

Yep. Interesting.

"Clove," I said.

"Huh?" Angry face. Then tender face. Then sad face.

Something was very up. "You like me a little, am I right or am I right?"

Startled face. "Not a bit."

"I thought so. C'mere then."

Pause. Hesitant, wary face. "Why?"

"Just do it. And please don't take it out on the poor bunny," as she stabbed the carcass.

She clung to the bloody knife, looking cross, then scooted over. "Well, now what?"

"Closer."

Gingerly she obeyed, by several inches.

"Again."

She surveyed the finger-breadth between us, looking worried. "No."

I grabbed the waistband of her pants and pulled her the last bit, to which she shrieked but didn't fight much.

"And?" she squeaked. I guessed it was intended as a bark and came out wrong.

I leaned over to get the rabbit and wrapped my spare arm around her simultaneously. "I'm going to roast supper while you sit here like the good little girl you never were."

Snort. "Oh, thanks."

"My pleasure." I tore off the rabbit's hind legs and stuck them on my spear, since they had all the meat afforded by that lean animal, and held them over my fire.

I was quiet and she was quiet.

Then we ate and I was still quiet and she was still quiet, and twilight washed into darkness. The Gamemakers announced a feast for the next day but we ignored them.

We stomped out the fire and cleaned up after ourselves, putting the other animals and our packs under bushes, same as last night, all the while with my arm stubbornly around her. She shot me a whole bunch of sideways glances but made no comment.

"I'm not tired," I remarked, pulling her down beside me as I sat on the ground against a tree trunk, "so I'm going to sit here awhile."

She seemed to catch on to the fact that I intended her to do the same, and remained tucked against my side. Eventually she said, "Cato?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

Enough of that. "What's your problem today?" I demanded.

She ignored me. "Let's kill Katniss Everdeen tomorrow."

Katniss. As good a topic as any. "Yeah, about that. Why did you always have it out for her?" Feeling her tense, I added, "Before, I mean."

"You don't like her either," she protested.

"Ah, but I know why. I want to hear your reasons."

Silence. Sigh. "She has everything," Clove muttered finally. "And she doesn't even care."

Wait, the girl's jealous? Of a Twelver? Other than a great score in training and a huge reception by the people, what did Katniss have? Nothing.

So I said intelligently, "What?"

Clove held up a hand in the faint light and began counting on her fingers angrily. "She's beautiful. She's smart. Her family cares about her. Somebody loves her. And she has someone to die for besides herself. Everything."

Well, that was a revelation, and made me look petty besides. My only reason to hate the girl was competition, which in self-defense, is my life. And her insufferable arrogance. And the way she made me look like an idiot, which had a bad effect on me. But still. Lame, put that way.

Clove shivered.

I scooped her into my lap, just because I could. "You don't know all that," I reminded her gently.

"Yes I do." Finalty.

Oh. Okay.

"She is beautiful. She is obviously very smart or she would be dead already. Her family cares about her very much, or she wouldn't have been so defensive when she mentioned them. The boy she came with is in love with her, how did you miss that?" Clove paused in her furious tirade. Quietly she added, "And she's willing to throw it all away for her little sister."

Clove turned to me, her face tired and lonely. "Nobody cares about me, Cato. And I don't care about anyone. The only thing I live for is me. I'm not beautiful, so nobody loves me. I'm alone, Cato. That's why I wanted to win. To not be alone. She's never been all alone." In a whisper: "I hate her."

Whoa. Lots of information.

Clove moved to get away. I held her down. "Lies," I snapped, angry. She, my rock, my girl, my sarcasm fix, should never feel alone. Because she wasn't.

"Truth," she said flatly, wearily.

"You _are_ smart. You _are_ beautiful. _I_ care about you! _You_ are responsible for keeping me sane. I will never leave you. You are _never_ alone. You will never _be_ alone!" I paused, having at some point grabbed her face and gone nose to nose with her. So now all I could see were her startled eyes.

"Oh," she said.

"Also," I added slowly, trying to relax again, "you're quite welcome to die for me if you need someone to die for, but I'd rather you'd forego that altogether."

She watched me for a bit. "Okay."

Silence. I watched her watch me.

She stood and reached down for me, hooking her arm with mine. "Bedtime," she stated.

"Yeah," I said meekly.

She didn't lie facing me as she had last night, but she let me pull her in so that her back rested snugly against my chest. And she didn't push me away when I ran my fingers gently across her face. Twice.

… **...**

 **A/N: Tada. Leave a message after the beat. Eh, I mean... drop a review if you feel like it. If you don't I love you anyway.**


	23. Part 23

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **Part 23**

 _My soul can breathe in your love_

 _ **~Steve Moakler**_

 **Clove POV**

"Do you think we should go?" I asked.

"It would be a sure chance of taking somebody down," Cato replied. I could sense his reluctance but we both realized that we couldn't just hide in the woods forever.

"They did say there's something we desperately need," I commented, making finger quotation marks around the last two words.

Cato looked worried. "Yeah. I keep thinking they probably know something we don't, that some other obstacle we can't survive without whatever they have there will be thrown at us."

"Typical."

"We need a strategy, I suppose," he remarked.

"Here's one. I'll go get the stuff while you stay undercover and watch for tributes."

"Here's a better one, suppose we switch places."

"No. I'm quicker on my feet."

He looked dubious.

We started walking anyway. Our arms kept swinging against each other but we didn't add any distance between us. Then he took my hand.

I nearly jumped, because it was sudden, unexpected, and I had been thinking about how long I could resist his utterly unconscious charm yet.

Time to give it up.

"Cato," I said.

He quirked a brow.

"I wasn't lying when I said I didn't like you."

He quirked his other brow, which meant he was just raising his eyebrows.

I backed away in front of him, nervous. No quitting now. "I don't like you," I said slowly. Silence. He just waited, eyes on mine. I looked away, then back. "...I love you."

He stopped walking. I stopped backing.

"Why are you standing there?" I demanded in frustration. "Kiss me!"

He looked, at that moment, precisely like... well... Cato, being offered his fondest dream. Disbelieving. Thrilled. Awed.

Then his hands landed on my shoulders and he pushed me slowly back against a tree for the second time. Beautiful, convenient trees.

He rested his forehead on mine. "You really want me to?" he asked. His voice was thick.

I looked up at him and met those eyes. So blue. "More than you seem to want to," I whispered. I didn't mean to whisper, but my voice had bailed on me.

He snorted inelegantly and his hands were on my face, holding it, framing it. His hands loved me and I knew he did too. He wanted to kiss me.

His lips touched mine, chapped, soft. Tender. I stopped waiting. I kissed him. Hard. And he was kissing back. Hungrily.

He yanked me upward against himself and I wrapped my legs around his hips. I kissed him more fiercely. My fingers found his hair and played with it without my telling them to. His hands were constantly moving over my shoulders, my back, my waist, my face, my hair. Holding onto me, holding me.

Loving me.

"Clove," he whispered suddenly. "You crazy... crazy girl... I..." He fingered my cheek. " You..."

I kissed his chin.

We slid down to the ground. Kissing like, well... kids in love.

I remembered the cameras. I pushed away slowly. "They're watching", I whispered, but he was holding me so closely, with his face tucked into the crook of my neck, that I doubted he heard a single thing.

I rested my chin on his shoulder. I kissed his earlobe. I returned my chin to his shoulder.

Finally I said, "Cato?"

"Hm?"

"Weshould go...?"

"Spoilsport," he muttered. But he put me down. Very reluctantly. And he didn't let go, which suited me anyway. I stayed snugly against his side.

We walked silently, joined at the hip.

"Almost there," I said suddenly.

"Okay, look, maybe we shouldn't..."

"Shut up, there's Katniss." I grabbed my knife. "Cover for me!" I left at a run.

My stupidest choice ever.

I did get her down successfully. In fact, I nearly screwed up the courage to bring the knife down- taunting her mercilessly to buy time- but then I was too absorbed and I didn't hear him coming.

The boy from Eleven.

He'd heard me teasing Katniss about not being fast enough to save the little girl Marvel had killed. It was one of the few insults I could think of. After all, she had everything.

It was the wrong insult. The little girl was from Eleven.

And suddenly I was swinging in the air in front of his livid face.

"You killed Rue? _You killed Rue?"_ he demanded.

I told the truth. "No!" On a scream. Where was Cato? _Where was he?_

"I heard you! You killed Rue!" I recognized the look in his eyes. Blind hatred. Red rage. Grief. And a passion for revenge.

"No!" I screeched, but I knew. He was beyond reason.

I was about to die.

Now, on the thirteenth day of the Seventy-fourth Annual Hunger Games, I was about to become just another nameless fallen tribute. After all that work, all those dreams. It was over.

"Cato!" I screamed. Where was he? I hadn't left him so far behind. "Cato! _Cato!"_ Stupid, stupid me. How had this happened? "Catoooooo!"

The boy slammed something hard into my temple.

Fire. Pain. Explosions.

" _Cato..."_ It wasn't loud enough. There was no strength. But even the desperation was drowning in fire. _Why... is it... ending... now?_

A bigger explosion. Falling sensations. Squiggly lines. Flames.

Faint calls. _Clove. Clove._ What did they mean?

 _Clove!_

The darkness was soft. It came in gently, swiftly, to carry me from the Arena I thought I'd never escape.

 _Don't leave me._

Red edges. Black.

The fire was out.

 **Cato POV**

"Clove!" I said, exasperated, starting to run after her. Then the ground opened.

"Ow!" I looked down. My leg was stuck in a groundhog hole that could not be a groundhog hole because it had just appeared out of solid dirt. Or what had been solid dirt seconds ago. I checked to see where Clove was. Attacking Katniss. Foolish little brat. I stuggled angrily.

It was quite plain. The Capitol wanted some drama finally, and they weren't about to let me ruin this prime opportunity.

And I couldn't get out. I wiggled. I thrashed. I cursed.

I was stuck.

I saw the boy from Eleven grab her.

But then she screamed and the Capitol had nothing on me. I began chopping away the ground with my spear. Rage and desperation heaved me out.

Time lost- approximately three minutes. Already too late.

The boy whose life I had spared just the other day had already tossed her to the ground, and she wasn't moving. And he was running away.

I got to her side with abnormal speed, shouting at her, telling her to stay. Stay with me.

Her face was warm when I patted her cheek in a wild attempt to revive her, but I felt just one small breath, then nothing. Her eyes were fading... still the same color, still the same eyes, but I could see- Clove no longer looked through them.

I knelt beside her with that small, precious face in my hands. How had this happened ?

So fast.

… _ **...**_

That was the last I remembered of that day. I didn't recall leaving. Walking away. But I woke up the next morning on hard ground in the wheat field I hadn't entered yet at all since the Games began. I had two packs. One must be from the Feast.

And it was raining on me. Raining hard. The water came down in armies around me and I watched it, motionless in a widening mud puddle.

Tiny silver spears, driving between the wheat stalks, pounding the ground, drumming on me.

My face was very wet. My hands were wet. I was soaked. I didn't move.

I never told her I loved her.

The little spears came down with disturbing continuacy and precision. Rhythm. That was the word.

I let myself be immersed in the rhythm.

… **...**

At the end of the day, during which I walked the field aimlessly, soaked to the skin, I was surprised to discover that I was hungry. I ate everything in my old pack but didn't touch the new one.

I left the field and found a leaning rock to curl up under.

I went to sleep.

… **...**

I woke again. I was still soaked. The world smelled muddy. The little silver spears still pounded down, down, down.

I opened the heretofore unopened pack. It was filled with body armor.

Body armor.

She died for body armor.

And I had never told her... I had been about too... But then she kissed me again... Soft strawberry lips...

Not having any will left with which to hate the Gamemakers, I was about to resume my fetal position when there was a _ding-ding._ I looked up. Hello, parachute.

Somebody had sent me food. Meat tarts and oranges.

I ate them all.

… **...**

At first I thought it was a hallucination when I saw him walking by my rock. But no, I could hear his feet. They went thump, thump.

I stood. I looked at him. The one who killed her. I felt the blood of my father pumping through the artery that used to be my heart.

I saw red.

When I backed away and looked again, I still saw red. On him. On my hands.

There was a boom.

I walked away.

… **...**

That night the dark boy's face was in the sky. The next night it was a red haired girl.

I had taken to wandering the forest. Maybe Katniss would show up and I could kill her. There were only three of us left.

Katniss did show up. But first the mutts did.

They were ugly, awful. They stank. They roared. They made me feel a level of terror I had only experienced once before... four days ago.

So I ran. Katniss and her boyfriend ran. And we made it to the Cornucopia. We got to the top where the mutts couldn't reach us.

So I tackled Peeta. But he had a girlfriend on his side and I hadn't. My girl was gone.

His shot me in the hand and I fell, down to the mutts with the dreadful eyes. They took their time tearing me up. All night, to be exact.

 _I never told her..._

I was vaguely glad when I saw the arrow pointed at me and Katniss's face beyond it, wearing something that looked like pity.

 _I'm sorry, Mama._

… _ **...**_

 _Oh, my eyes are seeing red_

 _Double vision from the blood we shed_

 _The only way I'm leavin' is dead_

 _That's the state of my, state of my_

 _state of my head._

 _ **~Shinedown**_

… _ **...**_

 **A/N: I'm sorry. I hated doing this. Before, however, you attack me with sharp objects, read the epilogue.**

 **Remember who the real enemy is.**


	24. Part 24: Epilogue: The After Gate

**A/N: It's here. The grand finale.**

 **Disclaimer: It isn't mine.**

… **...**

 **Part 24: Epilogue: The After Gate**

 _So wait for me, the world is changing_

 _Underneath the ground is shaking_

 _You and I were made for something better_

 _ **~Audien**_

 **Cato POV**

Clove.

In the fine golden mist she stands quietly, serenely. Waiting.

I am still, stupified.

She is wearing a white dress, leaving long, lean legs and small bare feet to view. Her shoulders gleam under the light that is all around us and has no visible origin. Her face turns to mine; my dumb gaze drinks in what I thought was lost to me forever.

Clove's eyes. Filled with light, with... life. Gentle and strong. She sees through them again.

She smiles at me, those strawberry lips soft. Like always.

"Cato," she says.

Clove's voice. Strong, feisty, familiar. I had given up on hearing it ever again.

"Clove?" My voice is raspy, husky. I am weary, dirty, rumpled. But she holds out her arms anyway.

I go to them, to the safe haven I have been seeking so long. So long.

Her slim young arms go around me and her soft cheek rests against my scratched neck. Healing is in her touch; her love surrounds me like a blanket.

I hold on, and I don't let go. I can't. I hold her soft young body as if all the horrors of the past two and a half weeks- the past sixteen years- are trying to rip her from me at once. I will never let go.

Her hand is stroking my hair and I realize I am crying. The rage, the guilt, the pain, the grief, the loss. The overwhelming helplessness. The terror in that Arena. It is all slipping away, fading. I am being healed in her embrace.

Her hand finds my face; she looks at me. Her thick dark lashes glimmer in the endless light.

The nutmeg sprinkles over her nose, the peach glow of her cheeks, the point of her chin. The warm chocolate of her eyes.

"Clove," I whisper, because it is she, and she is not lost. Not gone.

"Cato." She touches the wetness of my cheek. Tenderly, because she knows. She understands. The horrors I went through, she also did. The same monsters tore us apart.

And as she stands two heartbeats away, I see that there is no fear in her eyes, and I think, _There is no fear here._ It does not come as a big revelation, but a mere knowing. There is no fear here. It is impossible.

And with the fear, the defiance has also left. There is no longer need for it. She is no longer compelled to be hard. She is free, perfect.

And I realize that as I stood here, I have been made perfect too. The scratches, the wounds, the dirt, the blood... all the blood... All are gone. And I feel something that has been evading me for years, something I can read in her eyes too.

Happiness.

Clove takes a step, holding out her hand. I take it. "I waited for you." She sounds content, as if every piece of the puzzle has fallen in place, as if all her pain is justifed. As if she has all she ever wanted.

And I realize that it is true. My desperation has dissolved in the all-encompassing golden mist. There is nothing to hurry for. Nothing to run from. I have all of forever to tell her I love her, and she has all of forever to reply. To say... again... she loves me.

Because she does.

Clove slips her fingers into mine; I twine my fingers through her slim, strong ones, the essence of the girl I love surrounding me. She leads me through the light, towards the gate.

Everything we have lost, everything we never had, is returned to us. Innocence, childhood, security, laughter, love. Freedom from fear.

We walk to the gate unhurriedly, hands clasped between us, unafraid. Because for the first time in so long, there is no reason to run.

And we are together, connected not only by our hands, but by our entire past and future, by our souls. By forever.

We will always be together.

 **Clove POV**

I look down, pausing before I touch the gate. I just want to see our hands, woven together, as they were intended to be.

His is big, strong. Mine is small, slim. Together they make me happy.

I look up at him and he smiles down at me. Those eyes. So blue.

I smile too, because there is no reason not to and every reason to. Because Marvel will be on the other side of the gate. Because, this. "Cato," I say.

\"Yes," he replies. He's leaning in so close, his hair brushes my forehead.

"We got out after all," I say, reveling in the thought. "We got out."

"Pretty awesome, right," he says, all grinning and cocky, and I laugh as I place my hand on the gate.

It is a good day, a good eternity, because we got out. After all.

… **...**

 _Where there's a will, there's a way, kind of beautiful_

 _And every night has its day, so magical_

 _And if there's love in this life, there's no obstacle_

 _That can't be defeated_

 _For every tyrant a tear for the vulnerable_

 _In every lost soul the bones of a miracle_

 _For every dreamer a dream, we're unstoppable_

 _With something to believe in_

 _ **~Avicii**_

… _ **...**_

 **A/N: Did I redeem myself? Or shall I still hide from sharp objects?**

 **I will add that I do not consider death a good way to solve problems at all, but as it was mandatory here, I did my best to make it all work together for the best. Also, I thank each and every one of my readers from the bottom of my heart. (Deep down, at any rate.) Particularly for no flames, how cool is that! Particularly since this was my first fanfic and my first chapter story. Your sticking with me was the most amazing support, whether you reviewed or not. (Extra special thanks to those who did review or are about to.) YOU ROCK PEOPLE! All of you.**

 **Ciao,**

 **Toodles,**

 **Bye-bye,**

 **...Crazy**


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